TCOT Seductive Defendant
by GraceBe
Summary: What can I say? The end is close - and Perry and Della are together. As always.
1. Prolog

_I know some of you are still waiting for Mrs. Robertson and I promise you'll get more chapters very soon (when my old pc where the files are stored is working again). But so far I want to share my new story with you. I had the idea for it when I watched a scene with Perry and Della from the movie "The lethal lesson". It's a little darker than TCOT Returning Relative and takes place in 1990 and 1950. I decided to start the story with the end (well, almost end ;-) ) Enjoy and please remember I'm a Perry/Della shipper by heart. _

_In case no one has noticed it by now: I'm not E.S. Gardner and I did not create his characters. I just play with him and hope to return them unharmed. I make no money from this - not that I would get any. _

_Thanks to Molly, my fabulous beta! _

**The Case of the Seductive Defendant**

**Prolog - Los Angeles, February 1990**

The moment he walked into the house he smelled the gunpowder. He heard the stertorous sound of someone who tried to breath but couldn't because the blood was rising in his lungs. Then he saw the two bodies, lying on the floor. He saw the pool of blood spreading underneath the body of the man who was fighting his final battle. Then he saw her next to him and another puddle of blood, maybe hers, maybe also his. She did not move; her face was turned to the floor.

"Ken, quick! Call the ambulance!" Mason barked and bent down. He took her wrist, felt a weak pulse and yelled again at Ken to hurry. He damned himself. He had come too late. When he had finally understood what was going on, it had been too late. He swallowed, as he held her lifeless hand and prayed she would return the pressure, letting him know she was fighting to stay.

"It's over."

The voice came out of the background and it wasn't Ken Malansky who was talking to him. He startled. She was still here. Had she wanted to watch them die? He heard how she placed her index finger around the trigger, pointing the gun at him.

"You're right, it's over," Mason said and turned. He was surprised to see the woman was crying. From what he had found out about her, he had believed she had no tears left for anyone. She was still beautiful. A woman who could have had anything, if she had just tried to live instead of cultivating her hatred.

Ken stared at them, but didn't move, trying to evaluate the situation.

"Why now?" Perry asked, although he didn't care much about the why at this moment. He just wanted to buy time.

"It's the final act," she explained. "Everybody is getting what he," she pointed with her head at Della. "Or she, deserves."

"Della is hardly responsible for any of this," he corrected her angrily. He had never felt the wish to kill someone before, but right now, knowing that this woman had wanted to take from him the one person he loved most, he felt a fury that he could hardly keep in check.

"That's your version of the story. If it weren't for her, he would have been mine a long time ago."

"You know that's not true… you knew it was impossible back then."

"I was as much a woman as she was. But that doesn't matter anymore, right?" she laughed. A bitter and shallow laugh that made him frown. "It's over. I guess that makes both of us losers, Mr. Mason. I could take you with me as well… but I guess… it's too late for you."

He made a wide step forward when she aimed the gun at her head, but before he was able to hit her arm with his walking stick he heard the sound of the gun as she pulled the trigger. He saw the blood, felt it on his face, and heard how her lifeless body dropped onto the floor.

One second later he heard Ken talking to someone at the phone.


	2. Chapter 1

_Since it's my style to jump straight into a story, I'll do the same with this one. Just don't give up after reading this chapter. You should me well enough by now to know, I love adding some oil to the fire... thanks to Molly for her constant help and support! _

**The Case of the Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 1 – Barbados, November 1989 **

Della had always thought of herself as a very down to earth person. She hadn't been raised to be a dreamer and she had always appreciated her t that parents never wanted her to be one. She certainly had learned to love life and to cherish the good things God provided her. When Perry had pushed her to take a vacation, because he had the feeling she was overworked, she had first refused, but then she had finally agreed, because she knew he wouldn't stop ranting until she gave in. When she had asked him to go with her, he had refused – because he had promised his students to hold a seminar. So much for the bad influence a job could have on someone's life. He was teaching as a visiting professor, because an old friend asked him to and she had to take a vacation – on her own. She had sparred him every comment and had just smiled at him, knowing he would get the message.

So it was that Della found herself on cruise ship in the Caribbean sea and it was marvelous. The food was excellent, the wines superb, the staff more friendly than one could imagine.

The sea was bluer, the beaches whiter and the palm trees greener as the advertisements described.

At the bottom line though she was in paradise it bored her to death. She was used to work around the clock and to being surrounded by mysteries and crime. On this ship the only mystery was what the next desert would look like and if they had used coconut or passion fruit as a major ingredient. Her partner at the table was an obnoxiously curious woman who never tired of asking Della why she wasn't married yet and why she didn't use the trip to search for a husband. Needless to say, Della was hardly interested in telling anyone how happy she was with a man without having the legalization of the relationship on a piece of paper.

After 5 days Della had actually been ready to jump the ship. What had saved her was their arrival in Barbados and the opportunity to take a day trip around the island.

Instead of joining the tourist caravan, she had planned on escaping the group to discover the place on her own. She longed for some freedom that only a day in utter solitude had to offer.

The moment she had wanted to leave the ship was the moment he had come on board.

Later than he had planned, as she would learn afterwards, but he had missed the ship beforehand, due to the timing of a business deal. Otherwise she would have run into him much earlier.

In the beginning she hadn't been sure if it had been him. She had had to look twice, risking him noticing her curious glances.

Instantly she had felt goose bumps on her skin, had noticed how her heart had started racing, had known her cheeks had been flushed as his eyes had fallen on her.

He hadn't stopped to greet her and had just passed her nonchalantly, making sure his shoulder would touch hers. A squall had torn at her hat and she had caught it automatically. Pressing the hat on her head she had closed her eyes, trying to find her composure, trying to figure out why she was reacting this why, trying to fathom why he could do this to her, although another man owned her heart, soul and body for so many years now.

Since she was not a dreamer, she had known this was real. It wasn't a dream meant to fade with dawn. He was there, on the same cruise ship, in the middle of paradise.

* * *

In the evening, when she entered the restaurant for dinner and couldn't detect him in the crowd, she relaxed a bit. Again she started telling herself she had been dreaming or gotten too much sun. Then her eyes fell on the captain's table and she bit her lips. He was there, sitting next to the first officer, clearly enjoying himself.

At one moment his eyes found her and held onto her until she turned away.

She forced herself to eat something and to listen to her table sharing tales, but everything that entered her mouth and ears reminded her of sawdust.

She excused herself as quickly as possible and escaped outside. Leaning against the rail, she inhaled the sea air to keep her revolting stomach in check. She hated to panic and she had seen and heard enough to know better, but this threw her off the road. They hadn't seen each other in 40 years. Why in the world did he now have to appear in a place from which neither of them could escape? Suddenly she felt imprisoned and unprepared. There was no way she could hide, if he wanted to talk to her. Sooner or later she had to face him and knowing him, he would know how to make it happen.

And he did.

He approached her from behind and with his slow, but steady steps she heard the first sounds of music reaching her ear. She held her breath for a heartbeat to prepare herself.

"I noticed you didn't touch your drink," he said, as he placed himself next to her. In his hands he held two flutes with champagne. He offered her one. "I blame it on your charming neighbor."

"I'm not that fond of champagne," she said and was amazed how natural and steady her voice sounded.

"I know, but since you used to refuse any other drink as well I thought I'd bring you the next one available."

After a short hesitation she took the glass, but refused to drink although he made a small toast into her direction. "You look ravishing as always," he remarked and she noticed how his eyes checked every detail of her appearance. She wore a dark pantsuit matched a white top. The eye catcher was a pearl necklace gracing her cleavage. The necklace had been a present from Perry for her last birthday - those days they had stopped counting decades ago.

He didn't look so bad himself, she had admit. The tux was perfectly tailored; he had always had a thing for expensive clothing and from what she heard and read about him these days he could easily afford it.

"And you look… successful," she stated.

"I am," he agreed. "I lead a full, rich life. And you?"

"I'm fine." She shrugged. "Just fine."

"I take it you can't seem to get away from the law office, although you once made it into the managing department."

"Let's say the adventure ended badly," she said, knowing perfectly what he was going to say next.

"It's not fun to be in the dock, I guess."

"Do we really have to go there?" she asked lowly. "You're free, I'm free… it's past."

"I guess, you're right," he exhaled and emptied his glass at once. "The funny thing is that the two of us are free because of the same man."

She noticed the bitter undertone in his voice and wished he wouldn't force her to go back in time and remember the past.

"He's a good man."

"I don't doubt that and if I'm right he never asked you if you killed your boss, right? He just believed you, because…" again his eyes roamed her body in a way that gave her shivers and said: "Because you are you…"

"He got you free… isn't that all that counts?"

"He didn't believe me and thought I was guilty. He never said it, but I knew what he was thinking."

"You came out of it quite well," she smiled at him, still fighting the dizzying emotions

running through to her. She could only pray he didn't notice how nervous he made her. "He pulled you out of the mess and you could move on."

"It took me a lot of hard work to restore my good name and my business."

"And yet you made it… the journey is the reward, remember?"

"And yet…" he started and broke off.

"Yes?"

"And yet I had hoped for something else or, may I say, for somebody else to join me on my way."

The ice they were walking on was thin. One step at the wrong time and the wrong spot and the ice would break, letting them crash in cold, undefined waters. Della turned her face away from his merciless eyes and watched the illuminated ships out in the harbor. It was a warm night, the air was mild, the wind nothing but a soft breeze. Perfect for a romantic encounter, she thought bitterly.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked abruptly.

"To dance?" she asked breathlessly, because the mere idea of a dancing with him was something that turned her knees into a mass of pudding. Seeing him and talking to him was enough for one evening. Dancing and touching unthinkable.

"They're playing our song," he said, turning to the door and the direction of the music. Only now Della recognized the song playing in the background.

"_Moonlight and love songs never out of date. Hearts full of passion. Jealousy and hate.."_

She recognized the song and remembered they had danced to it. "It's not our song… not like this."

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, amused. "You've never been before… well once," he mused.

"No, I'm just saying I won't dance with you."

She gave him her glass and gave him a small smile. "I'm tired."

"You're running away."

"I'm just quitting while ahead."

Perry's message reached her the next morning when the waiter served it with her breakfast. To her enormous relief he asked her to come back to work because one of his favorite students was accused of murder. She could escape the ship and HIM for a very good reason and without having a bad conscience.

But if she had hoped to leave the ship without running into him again she had hoped wrong. He sat on deck, reading the newspaper when she passed him, while a young steward went right behind her carrying her luggage.

He followed her until she had reached the gangway and then he called her: "Della?"

She stopped and turned, feeling she owed him that much: "Yes?"

"You leaving?"

"For work… Perry has a case."

He grinned, half-amused, half-disappointed: "Of course…"

Preferring not to give him a chance to tell her what a coward she was, she decided to say the one honest thing on her mind: "It was… good to see you. Take care of yourself."

~~tbc~~


	3. Chapter 2

_A big thank you for all the nice comments so far and a big thank you to Molly for editing this. _

**TCOT Seductive Defendant – Chapter 2  
**  
**Los Angeles, January 1990**

They had been home for a few hours now and enjoyed the peace only a won case brought with it. Perry sat in the living room in Della's house and was reading a newspaper while Della had vanished into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

When she returned to the living room she found Perry standing at the table, deeply lost in his thoughts. The man's brain never stopped working, even when the case was over and his defendant safe.

"The case is closed, Counselor," she reminded him smilingly.

"I don't think so. Look at this!" her smile faded when she realized how concerned he really was. His eyes were glittering mysteriously and he was apparently tensed. She approached him, took the newspaper and felt how she instantly lost her color. The smile she looked at was a very well-known one and for the second time in short period of time it gave her goose bumps.

"Grant case reopened," she read aloud. "Sister in law sues Thomas Grant."

"Apparently they found new evidence in the case," Perry explained in a dark voice.

"All this happened 40 years ago… what kind of new evidence can they have?" Della asked hoarsely.

"I don't know. But I don't think Eileen Turner would sue her brother in law without reason."

"She takes civil action against him?" She was too nervous to read the newspaper. Suddenly she felt quite cold and put the paper back on the table. She wasn't sure if she really had again the strength to deal with him as a person and not just as a memory.

While they had been busy with the defense of Ken Malansky, she had almost forgotten about her meeting with him on the cruise ship. For her work always worked best as a life saver.

"How do you feel about this?" she asked. "After all, you were the one who got him free in the first place."

"Well, if there's new evidence it has to be investigated."

"That's all?" she asked suspiciously.

He smiled at her. "You know me too well. It was our first case together, remember?"

The tenderness on his face brought a smile on her face. "Of course. How could I forget?"

"I had my doubts about his innocence, but there was nothing to prove he was guilty. The whole case was built on presumptive evidence and rumors about the bad stage of his marriage shortly before his wife was killed…" his voice trailed off.

"But?"

"But still… Thomas Grant was the only heir of his young wife's fortune that wasn't exactly small. He came from a poor family and had nothing to add aside from his intelligence and his hard work."

"The American dream," Della remarked dryly.

"Yes, but his wife had a bad temper and had threatened to kill him more than once."

"And according to the district attorney, one evening Thomas Grant lost his temper, grabbed a kitchen knife and killed his wife. The knife was never found and the finger prints all over the place weren't useful, because it was their home."

"No one heard or saw a thing. The only testimony the police had was Grants that he was upstairs in his study the whole evening while his wife downstairs was in the fireplace room, listening to an opera."

She remembered all this. Every detail. She had repeated the facts in her head over and over again, whether to find out if he had told them the truth or to reassure her doubts concerning him. In the end she had believed in him and his story, while Perry hadn't. She had watched both men closely and had noticed the growing dislike between them. In the end, Thomas Grant had left the courtroom as a free man – due to lack of evidence.

"So? What's the new evidence?"

"Apparently a private investigator found reliable information about the secret mistress Grant was rumored to have back then. Seems the woman existed for real, although Grant has always claimed she never existed and we never found her."

His eyes were staring into nowhere and so she noticed he didn't know what his words had caused within her. Her heart was racing in her chest and she strugled to collect her thoughts. She knew she had to make a decision, quick and without later regrets. She cleared her throat: "I'll be right back," she said and turned. She desperately needed to think this through. "I have to dry my hair."

"Alright… I'll open the wine."

* * *

Two glasses of red wine were waiting when Della came back. She had changed into her

favorite robe, made of red flannel. She was still freezing, but no piece of clothing would change that, even if she decided to wear a fur coat. Until she hadn't gotten her secret off her chest the cold wouldn't leave. She sank next to him on her couch and he gave her a glass.

"Finally alone," he said, making a toast.

"Yes." She returned the toast, but didn't drink. "There's something I want to tell you," she said instead.

"Yes?" He looked attentively at her.

"When I told you I was happy to leave the ship I wasn't perfectly honest with you."

He smiled, amused: "Della, there hasn't been a day so far when you haven't been perfectly honest."

"Well, that day I wasn't."

His smiled faded and he wrinkled his forehead. Apparently something in her voice disturbed him. "Go ahead."

"Being bored wasn't the only reason I was glad to get back to you. Perry, when I was on the ship I met Thomas Grant."

"You did what?"

"He came on board when we docked in Barbados. One day before I received your message."

"Did he recognize you?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, he did. We had a talk in the evening."

Silence fell. She knew she should continue talking, but she couldn't bring herself to phrase the words.

"What did you talk about?"

"Well… a lot of things." She hesitated.

"What's wrong, Della?" he asked tenderly, caressing her cheek. "It's not like you sneaking around the bushes. What did he tell you?"

"It's not what he told me… it's more what it meant to me to see him again."

"Sorry?"

"Perry, 40 years ago I had an affair with him."

Suddenly the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees. She felt how he removed his hand and when she looked up she saw his eyes staring at her in utter disbelief.

**~~tbc~~**

_I know the cliffhanger is mean, but things are never the way they seem._**  
**


	4. Chapter 3

_This chapter takes us back to the year 1950... the year Perry hired Della as his legal secretary. The defense of Thomas Grant is the first case Perry and Della worked on as a team... thanks to Molly, my beta and attentive reader!_

**The Case of the Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 3 – Los Angeles, 1950**

When Perry Mason entered his office the first thing he noticed was how fresh everything looked. Since Miss Henderson had become Mrs. Tipton and had quit working as his legal secretary, he had had tried 3 different replacements and each had been a worse decision than the one before. When Della Street walked in to apply for the job though he had sensed that the lean time was finally over and he had found the right person to manage his office. Every morning when he arrived, he took 5 seconds to congratulate himself for his wise decision to hire her.

There were a few flowers in the waiting area now and the whole office looked more tidy and efficient under her care. Even Gertie seemed less stressed now that she didn't have to take care of things she wasn't hired and trained for. Perry had never noticed before how much a charming and self-assured secretary could influence the atmosphere in a working space. Della Street was efficient, friendly, and a stunning beauty who had the skill to smooth over angry clients, male or female, before they entered his office. She had been working in the office for only a month but he already knew that he aimed to keep her until they both were too old or senile to work.

"Good morning, Della," he greeted her with a bright smile. She was busy sepaprating his mail and he took a moment to admire her great fashion style. Today her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was wearing a blue blouse he hadn't seen before. He knew he paid well, but he had never noticed his former secretary being dressed so charmingly and practically at the same time.

"Good morning, Mr. Mason," she said. "Coffee is ready and Mr. Drake is already in waiting for you."

"Really? How's that? Weren't we supposed to meet at ten?"

"Apparently he can't wait to tell you something," she shrugged.

"So, let's see what our friend wants to tell us." He went into his office and Della filled two cups with coffee for them. As always, Paul Drake was half-lying, half-sitting in the guest chair.

"For you," she gave him the cup and he thanked her with an almost indecent smile: "Thanks, Beautiful. I really have to say I enjoy coming up here in the morning more than ever. Tell me, where did you hide before Mr. Mason here hired you?" He asked her the same question every time he saw her and as every time she replied: "I was trapped in the Smoky Mountains."

"A pity," Paul Drake said and sipped his coffee. "A girl like you should sit in every office. Are you sure you don't want to work for me?"

"Dream on, Paul," Perry said smilingly. "You snooze, you lose."

"Charming as always."

"If you don't mind," Della said. "The mail is waiting."

"No Della, wait. Please stay here and take some notes. Seems Mr. Drake knows more about our defendant than we do."

"I think I do."

She nodded and sat down at the lawyer's side.

"Shoot, Paul."

The private detective became serious and opened his little notepad. "So ,let's see….as I see it, he never lied to you about his upbringing, education etc. He just left out that he had a short, a very short relationship with a woman named Taylor Kimball before he married his wife, Edna. Obviously, Edna's father found out about that and took care of it. Grant and Taylor never met again."

"Are you sure?"

"There's no indication he was having any kind of extramarital affair with Taylor or anybody else, although he had a lot of reasons… his wife was a little tyrant. According to the maid, several times in the last few months she had been threatening to kill him. Edna was short-tempered and highly suspicious as soon as he left the house. She used to beat him with him everything she could get her hands on. She constantly called him at work to make sure he was really there. No secretary stayed longer than 2 months because Edna always feared he would start an affair with one of them."

"Sounds like hell," Della remarked, frowning.

"It was hell for him," Paul confirmed.

"Yes and that's his motive." Perry said pensively.

"It's pretty easy to imagine that he lost his temper during or after one of her violent rants," Paul continued. "He followed her into the kitchen where she was making tea, opened the drawer, took out the knife and stabbed her – over and over again."

Della swallowed. She wasn't accustomed to crime and she could hardly imagine how someone could commit a murder. Back in her home town, the worst crime in decades had been the theft of two horses.

"Yes, but no one saw or heard a thing and there were no fingerprints on the knife."

"So what does the district attorney know that we don't know?" Della asked.

"Burger's pushing charges because Edna's father is convinced his son-in-law must have killed his daughter. In his opinion, Grant's behavior was the reason for Edna became paranoid and angry. I know he's also hired several investigators to locate a mistress… without success so far," Perry explained.

"Well, let me tell you, there's no mistress and, if there is, he hasn't been seeing her in months."

"Where is this Miss Kimball now?"

"She's living in Santa Barbara as a teacher, teaching disabled children. Art and history I think."

"I see… any engagement?"

Drake shook his head. "She's been living on her own ever since Grant left her. I don't even know what she looks like."

"Interesting, maybe I should talk to Mr. Grant about this woman." He turned to his secretary. "Let's go and see Mr. Grant, Della."

* * *

"What can you tell me about Taylor Kimball?" Mason asked as he, Della and Thomas Grant sat in the interview room. Thomas Grant was a tall man, dark blond and well built. Della noticed his strong, neat hands. Could they hold a large knife with the intention to kill someone? Throughout the whole conversation she stole secret glances at him, trying to get to know him better while watching his body language. Until Perry had mentioned Taylor Kimball he seemed almost relaxed and glad to see somebody he could talk to. Now that changed; his eyes darkened and he suddenly looked tense.

"Where did you get that name from?" Grant asked in return.

"Paul Drake is highly efficient. So?"

"I haven't seen her in two years," Grant answered reluctantly. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Why didn't you mention her before?"

"Because she's not involved in any of this. You shouldn't waste your time with her."

Unimpressed by Grant's anger, Mason decided to dig deeper. "What did your wife think of her? As far as I know, her father banned Miss Kimball out of your life."

"Edna and Taylor had nothing to do with each other," Grant insisted.

Perry sighed: "Well, then tell me something I can work with. What happened the night Edna died? Is there anything you can remember? A noise? A call? Anything that might lead us to the person who killed her?"

Thomas Grant shook his head: "I told you over and over again, I was upstairs in my room the whole evening. No calls, no visitors. She was downstairs… she was listening to some music and I just went downstairs to complain when the music had become louder. I went downstairs, but she wasn't in the living room… I found her in the kitchen, lying in her own blood. The next thing I did was call the police."

"Well, the police found no evidence of trespassing… the neighbors didn't see anyone entering or leaving."

"I know how this sounds," Grant said. "But that's the way it happened."

"You had the motive and the opportunity. We have no witnesses and no traces that indicate a stranger had been in the house… so I guess we have to search for someone at least Edna knew at least well enough to ask him or her inside."

"She had no real friends… her sister was the only one who visited us… her father is too ill and bound to his bed. I have no idea who could have done it."

"Did your wife know Taylor Kimball in person?" Perry asked.

Thomas Grant's fist hit the top of the table. Della gasped, but Perry didn't move an eyelash. "I told you to leave her out of this!" Grant hissed.

"We'll see about that," Perry said coldly and turned to Della. "Let's go Della!"

When they sat in Perry's car the lawyer looked worriedly at Della. "You okay?" he asked attentively.

"Yes, just a bit shaken up. The man has temper."

"And he's scared. I wonder why," he mused.

"I guess that means you'll want to talk to Miss Kimball."

A smiled widened over his face. "You're drawing the right conclusions, Miss Street. Do you want to come with me? Santa Barbara is nice at this time of year."

Della shrugged, a little uncertain if it was part of her job to join him when he questioned people. "Why not… if I won't disturb you."

"Oh, you won't… and if you're with me, I'll finally have a good reason to have a real good dinner tonight."

* * *

The ray of hope to find someone who had reason and opportunity to kill Edna Grant ended the moment Perry and Della saw Taylor Kimball in person. When Taylor opened the front door of her small bungalow the lawyer and his secretary found it difficult to cover their surprise about the appearance of the dark-haired beauty woman on the doorstep. She sat in a wheelchair, trying to hide the absence of her lower legs with a woolen blanket.

"Miss Kimball?" Perry asked in a friendly tone.

"Yes." She smiled up to him.

"My name is Perry Mason and this is my secretary, Miss Street. Would you mind

answering a few questions on Thomas Grant?"

Della saw in the woman's face that she was contemplating refusing, but Perry's friendly, non-threatening presence convinced her to let them in.

"Come in."

She led them into her living room. They took a seat on the sofa and Della let her eyes examine the room. It was a friendly home with large windows and a lot of flowers and personal belongings. On a piano she detected a lot of framed photos, but non that showed Thomas Grant.

"What is it that you want to know, Mr. Mason?"

"When did you see Mr. Grant last?"

"In person you mean?" He nodded. "About 2 years ago… half a year before his wedding."

"Why did you separate?"

"Mr. Grant's future father-in-law, Sebastian Turner, found our relationship inappropriate and asked me kindly to step back."

"Which you did…"

"Yes." She looked down in her lap. "My life is difficult enough. I didn't need someone telling me how easily something like my first accident could happen again – with consequences worse than losing my legs."

Perry's eyes darkened: "He threatened you?"

"Actually, he didn't do it himself. He sent a cousin of his to deliver the message."

"Did Grant know that?"

She shook her head. "I thought it was best if I didn't tell him. You see, I liked Thomas very much, but we were friends nothing more… and before you ask: it was decision to keep our relation plantonic. I didn't want to threaten his future with Edna."

"So you let him marry into a family whose head is running around and threatening other people?" Della asked, forgetting her intention to stay quiet.

Taylor smiled at her: "You know, I thought once they were married they could live in peace. Sebastian Turner is an old man and from what Thomas told me, very ill. I thought he and Edna would survive him." She shrugged sadly. "I was wrong."

"I guess this was a dead end," Della said as they went to Perry's car.

"Well, yes… I doubt she can move quickly enough in the wheelchair to stab a knife into someone."

"And there's no way she could have entered the house," Della added. "She wouldn't have made it up the stairs to the front door."

"And the terrace is too far away from the kitchen. There are also a lot of small landings from the living room, where the french doors are, and the kitchen."

"And now?" she asked curiously. She felt she was starting to like the excitement the investigation had caused her so far. Perry smiled and opened the car door for her.

"Now we're going to get something to eat and then I will take you home. Tomorrow's our first day in court."

"Is it allowed to be nervous on my part?"

"Sure… let's hope your nervousness won't turn into boredom. A trial can be long and exhausting."

"I think I can survive that." Della said, amused. "Where I come from, the most exciting thing was the egg search in the church yard on Easter Sunday."

~~tbc~~


	5. Chapter 4

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story so far. I promise I won't let the P&D fans down ;-) Thanks to Molly as well!_

**TCOT Seductive Defendent **

**Chapter 4 – Los Angeles, April 1950**

Perry Mason had been right when he had told her a day in court was exhausting. In the early afternoon Della felt her concentration fading and she had a hard time focusing on her notes. The trial itself didn't go well. The evidence, though strictly circumstantial, was heavy and so far the lawyer hadn't had any opportunity to make a point.

Thomas Grant, who sat right next to her, was calm and composed. He hardly moved while Hamilton Burger, the district attorney, did everything he could point to how devious and brutal the killing of Edna Grant had been and that only one person in this world had had the motive and the perfect opportunity to do it. Against her wish, she found herself looking at Grant more than once, asking herself repeatedly if he was capable of killing his wife. At one time he seemed to sense one of her stolen glances and turned his head to look at her. She couldn't read his bright eyes, but they sent a shiver down her spine. She quickly lowered her eyes and did her best to refocus on her notes.

Right behind Della sat the remaining members of the Turner family. Eileen Turner, Edna's younger sister was dressed incredible elegantly for a 16 year old girl. The big black hat covered a big part of her face and let one think rather of a widow more than a grieving younger sister. Next to her sat Brandon Turner, Edna and Eileen's older cousin. Sebastian Turner himself was not present.

About 3.30 p.m. the judge adjourned the session until the next morning. Della stretched covertly after she had risen from her chair.

"Mr. Grant," Perry turned to his defendant. "I'll come and see you a bit later."

Grant nodded. "Alright. Things look bad, don't they?"

"Nothing is lost yet," Perry assured him, but Della doubted he really meant what he said.

A guard approached Grant from behind and grabbed his arm. Grant nodded at Mason and followed the guard, but then he discreetly asked the guard to stop for a second. He turned to Della, "Miss Street?"

Surprised to hear him calling her name she said: "Yes?"

"I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean to scare you. My behavior was inappropriate. I apologize."

She felt how the blood shoot into her cheeks. "That's alright, Mr. Grant."

Then the guard pulled demandingly at his arm to lead him out of the courtroom. Della watched him leave while Perry kept whispering with Paul Drake who just nodded and then disappeared as well.

The attorney took Della's elbow and grabbed his briefcase. "Let's go Della, we have a long evening ahead."

* * *

One and a half hours later, Perry, Della, and Thomas Grant sat again in the interview room. Grant was smoking a cigarette, listening to Perry's report about his visit with Taylor Kimball.

"She said Edna's father had threatened her life to ensure the two of you wouldn't see each other again. Is that true?"

"I thought I told you to leave it alone?" Grant asked, composed.

"As your lawyer, it's my duty to investigate in every thinkable direction to get you out of here. I had to talk to her."

"And now you're finally convinced Taylor had nothing to do with this."

"I asked you a question," Perry insisted.

For a short moment Thomas Grant looked at Della and then he nodded. "I knew one of Edna's relatives had talked to Taylor. When she refused to see or talk to me again, I knew something was wrong. So one day I managed to get away and met her outside town. We talked, but she never told me why she didn't want to see me again. I figured it was because of something Sebastian did and in the end we both agreed for our sakes to stop seeing each other."

"Didn't this behavior of Edna's family disturb you?" Perry asked.

"Of course, but…" Grant drew a deep breath. "My relationship with Taylor was strictly platonic. I loved Edna and understood her jealousy, so I decided to swallow it and move past her father's behavior. He was already very ill back when Edna and I married; I didn't expect him to live much longer."

"I see." Perry looked down on his hands. "Do you think it's possible that someone from Edna's family had a reason to kill her? How did Edna and her younger sister get along?"

Grant shrugged: "Quite well… but Eileen is still young, Only 16. The age gap between them was almost nine years and they grew up apart. Edna was away in boarding school when Eileen was born. Eileen was the daughter of Sebastian's second wife and him. But they've gotten along quite well since our wedding."

"I take it Edna had been sent away when Sebastian married again?"

"Exactly."

Perry sighed. "I told Paul Drake to take a much closer look at Edna's family, but I honestly say we don't have much hope of digging out something extraordinary."

"You won't," Grant assured him bitterly. "They have money and friends and a lot of skeletons in the closet, but they wouldn't kill one another. They stick together like a bunch of blowflies."

"Mason!" Lieutenant Tragg's voice crashed into the room like thunder. Surprised, Perry turned. "A word, please."

"I'll be right back," he said to Della and rose to join Tragg.

"Don't you smoke?" Grant asked Della, offering her a cigarette.

"I try to reduce my bad vices," she answered.

"That's a good idea. I hope you don't mind me smoking another one?"

"Just go ahead."

He lit another cigarette and then he looked at her: "I heard it's your first time in a murder case."

"Right."

"How does it feel?"

"I'm getting used to it."

"Mason is a good boss?"

"He pays well and knows good restaurants."

He smiled. A sunny, almost witty smile she hadn't seem on him before. "I guess that means yes." Then he became serious again. "Miss Street... I know your boss has a hard time believing me, but what about you?"

"Me?" she asked surprised. "Does it matter what I think?"

"Let's say it matters to me what a beautiful young woman thinks about me when she looks at me," he answered. "When you look at me, do you ask yourself if I'm a cold-blooded killer?"

She wanted to respond that she was paid for taking notes and making coffee and not for thinking, but then the words didn't slip her mouth. His eyes lay attentively on her and again she felt that unpredictable feeling running through her.

"Sometimes yes and sometimes no," she answered truthfully. "I have no idea if you did it." Silence fell and he stubbed out his cigarette.

"I didn't. I hope you'll believe me, no matter whether I'll leave this prison as a free man or as a prisoner on his way into the gas chamber."

She had no chance to reply because Perry returned from his conversation with Tragg.

"Well, it seems your prediction was right," he said after sinking onto the chair.

"What prediction?"

"Your father in law is dead."

"Oh..."

"He died two hours ago. The maid found him dead in his bed, Apparently he had died in his sleep. And guess what happened? She also found the bill for a cab drive on the

evening your wife was killed; it was among Sebastian's personal belongings."

"What does that mean?" Grant asked, suddenly agitated.

"It's one tiny little chance to prove someone else was in your house the night Edna was killed. I'll tell Paul Drake to find the driver and talk with him. Maybe your family is much more than a bunch of blowflies."

* * *

Back in the office, the lawyer paced the room deeply lost in his thoughts while Della sat in her chair and watched him. She sensed this wasn't the time to ask questions and so she kept quiet and waited for him to talk while her notepad and pen lay ready on the desk.

After almost 20 minutes of utter silence he looked up, saw her, and made a face as if he hadn't noticed her presence before. She looked at him, her eyes full of expectation. So far she had only read about investigators who made up their minds while thinking and walking around; seeing an investigator in person made her curious.

"Della, would you please take some notes..."

The harsh ringing of the telephone interrupted him. Della took the call: "This is Perry Mason's office."

The voice on the other end of the line was female, dark and somehow secretive. Actually, she was wondering why no cloud of expensive perfume was coming out of the receiver to fill the air with a hint of seductive confusion.

"This is Lisa Hamilton speaking. Is Mr. Mason in?"

Trying to forget the image of a blond bombshell in a cocktail dress. Della covered the receiver with her hand. "A Miss Hamilton for you."

For a moment he seemed puzzled, then he sat down and took the receiver. "Lisa!" He said with a smile on his face. "I know I forgot to call you!... Dinner... tonight? Sorry, but I... I know we promised Laura and Fred to join them. Tell them on Saturday... I swear it! Promise! Bye!"

He gave her the receiver and she returned it to the cradle. This making of a date sounded less seductive than the woman's voice had promised. "A date?" Della asked and instantly wished she had kept her mouth shut. She blushed, but he didn't notice it. He just nodded.

"I will have to make it up to her. Would you mind ordering some roses and having them send to her apartment?"

"No, of course not." She sighed, let out an inaudible and took her pen. He gave her the address and then he started dictating her his strategy for the next day in court.

~~tbc~~


	6. Chapter 5

_Here we go... thanks to my beta for the quick work! _

**TCOT Seductive Defendent **

**Chapter 5, Los Angeles - April 1950  
**

The next day in court was a day Della would never forget in her entire life. For the first time, she witnessed how Perry managed to turn events in a direction that set his defendant free. The bad thing was, Paul could find no cab driver who had driven a person from the Turner estate to Grant's home, but the maid could tell that the late Sebastian Turner could still walk around the house when his daughter had died and had even been used to taking short walks in the garden. Perry could also prove that Eileen Turner, though still young, wasn't at home on the evening of the murder and the young man she testified was with her had left the country to live permanently in Asia. In the end, Perry was able to awake doubts about Grant's guilt, which weighed more than the sum of circumstantial evidence the district attorney held and the judge decided to dismiss the case.

Della heard the shocked gasp from Eileen Turner when the judge declared his decision and when she turned she saw the angry face of Brandon Turner, Eileen's cousin. Eileen Turner was crying. She wore the same gigantic hat from the day before, but this time she held her head upright and the tears that seemed to run unchecked over her face made her appear much angrier than the dismissal of the case warranted.

Thomas Grant himself didn't seem to believe his eyes and ears when everybody rose and journalists stormed out the courtroom to call their editors. Della couldn't say if he was happy or not, while it was obvious Perry wasn't satisfied with the result. His forehead was wrinkled and he couldn't bring himself to smile when Grant started thanking him. He just said, "We were lucky, Mr. Grant," and shook his client's hand.

"Who could have guessed Sebastian's death could be a help for me?" Grant asked and shook his head. "The old man hated me and now he has saved my life. Maybe no one had ever found that bill, if he hadn't died and people wanted to know what there was left to inherit!"

"Stranger things have happened," Perry said pensively.

Thomas Grant turned to Della and smiled at her. "Thank you, Miss Street. For everything."

She took his hand and gave him a smile. "Goodbye Mr. Grant." He kept holding her a hand a few moments too long before he finally released it. She blushed again and avoided his eyes as he bid her goodbye.

"Goodbye, Miss Street."

* * *

Della gave a heartfelt yawn when she placed her pen in the drawer and closed it. It was after 8 p.m. and her back was aching. She stretched and took her coat from the wardrobe. Perry Mason was still inside his office and hadn't looked up for hours. She knocked carefully and waited, but he didn't call her in. A little worried, she opened the door and peeked in. He sat in his chair bending over a file and didn't notice her entering.

"Mr. Mason?"

He looked up. Again he had the strange expression on his face, as if he would notice her appearance for the first time in his life.

"Yes?"

"I'm going now. The letters are ready, the dishes are done…"

Absent-mindedly he looked at his watch and said, utterly surprised: "Of course, you go now. It's late!"

For the first time since she had known him, she saw him less energetic than usual. His eyes were tired and his complexion had the color of ash.

"You look as if you should go home as well. You look tired."

He rubbed his face and opened his tie as well as the first buttons of his shirt. "I'm afraid I still have something to do."

"Can I help you?"

"I'm afraid not… I can't ask you to come clean with my conscience."

Della raised her eyebrows: "Are you talking about the trial?"

He nodded and looked openly at her: "You see… it's gone too smoothly… Turner dies et voila... someone finds that cab bill…"

"Didn't you say yourself stranger things have happened?"

"Yes, of course… it's just a feeling… why should Edna's family, or one of them, want to kill her? Imagine, her own father is now the most possible suspect!"

Della nodded: "I know… gives me shivers to think a father could kill his child."

"Me too! Or think of her sister… they hardly knew each other before Edna married Grant… Eileen is still a teenager… I just don't see why one of them should be guilty of killing her."

He sighed discontent and Della started feeling sorry for him. "Maybe there was a third or fourth party involved you don't even know about," she suggested. "I hardly believe this family will let you take a look into their secrets."

"Yeah, maybe you're right…" he didn't sound convinced. Then, after some moments of silence, he said: "I couldn't stand it if I had freed a guilty man, you know… and…" he broke off.

"Yes?"

"This thing about the woman…"

"His so-called mistress… the one that doesn't exist according to Paul Drake?"

"Right… let's say she exists… she's his accessory… she kills Sebastian…"

"He died from a natural cause," Della reminded him.

"Yes… but you know what a pillow can do to a weak old man who's sound asleep. It's just a theory… she kills him, places the bill so that the maid finds it, and Grant is out of the woods."

He played with his ear lob, staring into nowhere. Della waited, but as he didn't add anything, she made a step forward and put her hands on the edge of his desk. She gave him a smile: "For what it's worth… I think you helped the right person."

Surprised, he looked up to her: "From what do you take this?"

"Female intuition."

Suddenly he smiled, "Lucky you," he said warmly. "And now go home. I won't stay much longer either."

Della looked doubtfully at him: "Are you sure? May I get you something? Some food or coffee?"

He shook his head: "I'm fine, Della. But thank you. See you tomorrow."

"Alright, Chief. Good night."

* * *

Right after Della had returned to her apartment, someone rang the doorbell. With one shoe still in her hand while the other lay in the middle of the room she went to the door and checked her visitor through the spyhole. She detected a young man with a baseball cap on his head and red roses in his arm. She opened.

"Yes?"

"Miss Della Street?"

"Yes?"

"These have been sent for you." He gave her the flowers and a pen. "Your signature please."

Too surprised to know what to do with the flowers, she looked at him with big eyes and dropped her shoe. A little card addressed to her was stuck between the roses

"But…"

"Lady, I still have to make 5 more deliveries and my shift ends in one hour." Demandingly he held the pen a little too close to her face.

"Alright!"

After she had closed the door she nervously pulled out the card. To her enormous surprise the flowers had been sent by Thomas Grant.

"_Thank you for listening to me. Should you still think I'm guilty, forget I exist, but if not, please call me and let me know what changed your mind. Thomas Grant." _

She called him two days later. It was Saturday evening and she was home alone. If her loneliness or the thought of her boss going out with a woman whose voice sounded very sensual played the decisive role in her decision, it didn't matter a few weeks later. She did call him and it changed her life.

**~~tbc~~**


	7. Chapter 6

_Okay... maybe some of you should read this with just one eye... ;-) _

_Thanks to Molly for editing this!_

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 6, Los Angeles 195****0**

Della and Thomas Grant had met on Sunday afternoon and enjoyed a walk in the park. To Della's surprise, she had no problem enjoying his company. Actually, she found talking to him quite easy and refreshing. Without the burden of the threatening walls of a jail around him, Thomas Grant proved to be a charming and entertaining man who had an enormous sense of dry humor. They finished their date on Sunday with a drink in a small bar and when he offered her to take her to dinner on Monday evening, she agreed after a short hesitation.

On Monday morning she had realized she suffered from a stomach ache when she remembered Perry Mason's doubts about his client's innocence. She was even ready to call Thomas Grant to cancel their next date, but when Perry showed up in the office later than usual and whistling she decided his worries about the case couldn't be that deep running and forgot the idea.

In the late early evening when she was already preparing to leave she also realized he hadn't mentioned Thomas Grant the whole day.

* * *

At 8 p.m. Grant picked Della up. She had spent one and a half hours with trying on outfits, deciding what to wear, and had finally settled on a green dress with a round neckline that showed off her straight shoulders. Her hair was loose and fell softly over her back. When she had been finally satisfied with her outfit, she had had just 30 minutes left to shower and for her make up. The day before she had learned Thomas Grant was a punctual man and she aimed to please. She was ready the second he rang her doorbell.

She opened the door and his appearance was breathtaking. He wore an elegant dark suit and a ravishing smile that brightened when he saw her.

"I'm glad I decided to dress as a gentleman for tonight. You look wonderful."

"No suggestions to look more… appropriate?" she asked jokingly.

"Oh no.. you're perfect," he assured her with a smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yes. I just need to find my purse."

* * *

Half an hour later they sat at a table in a seafood restaurant outside town. The place was small, intimate, and the illumination was so subtle that Della doubted anyone would recognize him quickly. Reading the menu was also not easy, but she was a little nervous and would go with whatever he suggested. The place reminded her of the restaurant where Perry had taken her some days ago.

"This is a nice place," she commented after the waiter had served the wine.

"Yes, I like it too. I like it when the staff is discreet and the view is magnificent."

Their table was placed next to a panorama window that offered a perfect view over the beach. The sun had already set and was just a memory, visible as a thin red line at the horizon.

"How was your day? Did the press leave you alone?"

"Almost… just two calls for interviews today. I think I'm losing my touch."

"It'll pass," she assured him gently. "Sooner or later the press will lose their interest in you."

"Yes, I know…" he said and after a short break he continued, obviously a bit self-conscious: "You know, I wonder…" he smiled at her in an apologetic way.

"Yes?"

"I wonder why you called."

"You remember your message?"

"Of course I do."

"So that's your answer then."

"That means you think I'm innocent, though your boss is still unsure what to think of me."

She shrugged: "Is that really important?" He nodded firmly. "It is to me, because I like you. I like you very much and I don't want you to believe I'm a cold-blooded killer."

Della bent forward and said in a low voice: "I don't believe that, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

He bit his lower lip, apparently still not convinced: "I don't want you to get into trouble with Mason."

"He doesn't know I'm here," she said after a moment of hesitation and all of sudden the feeling of betraying Perry washed over her like a cold wave. What if she was doing something she shouldn't? What if he would fire her the second he found out she was dating one of his former clients? His next question interrupted the chain of questions that had started running through her head.

"I see… Della, would mind coming with me after dinner? I want to show you something."

When he saw how her forehead wrinkled, he chuckled: "Don't worry, I'm not talking about my stamp collection…"

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I want to show you the house… my house."

"I've already been there," she said quickly, because she wanted to avoid going back there. She really didn't feel the need to revisit the house in which Edna Grant had been killed.

"Please, I want you to see it through my eyes."

* * *

Although she was being nervous about going to his house, Della had agreed to join him. She had to swallow when he unlocked the front door.

Following him with slow steps, she entered the building with a quickly bumping heart. The mansion was a dignified example for the old Victorian style and appeared a little dark and a little repellent on the first sight. Perry had told her the house had belonged to the Turner's family ever since it had been built and had been a wedding gift from Sebastian Turner himself.

"You aren't staying here?" she asked, after he had switched on the lights.

"No," he answered. "So far I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, but I'll never move in here again. It's never been more than a damn mausoleum."

The sound of her high heels on the floor echoed through the house. She felt a little cold in here and the air smelled stale.

"And where are you staying?"

"A hotel… but I've already contacted a real estate agent. I want to buy an apartment… something less…" he broke off, searching for the right word. "Less… dark and morbid."

"And what is it you want to show me?"

She had seen the place before. She had visited it with Perry Mason and Paul Drake who had tried to find out if a break in had been possible. The day of their visit had been a sunny afternoon, but she remembered that being in there had caused her the same nervousness. It felt as if the place had been haunted since Edna Grant had met her brutal end in it.

"I would like to tell you about the night she died… it happened over there…" he pointed to the end of the long dark hallway. She followed him and was glad he switched on the lights on their way to the kitchen door.

Of course, the kitchen had been cleaned and the blood was gone from the floor and the wooden counter. The room was colder than the hallway, as if it had preserved the atmosphere of the crime.

"In the room next to this you can find the fireplace room… she had been in there all afternoon," he explained. "I tried to talk to her when I came home, but she had been in one of her worse moods and I decided to leave her alone… I stayed upstairs on the second floor. I have had a bedroom there and a study where I sometimes sit and work after dinner. Edna was downstairs and at 6 p.m. she had started to listen to music… Italian opera. You have no idea how annoying Puccini can be when you have to listen to him for almost 6 hours… she hated Puccini, so I don't know why she chose him, but as I said, she was in a strange mood. Anyway… she must have been making tea for herself and another person. When I found her the boiler must had been on the fire for some time, because there was hardly any water left in it and there had been two cups on the counter."

"The visitor no one saw."

He nodded. "The police assumed I asked her to make tea for the two of us, so that she was distracted while I sneaked up behind her to stab her with the knife… but I don't even like tea," he made a face. "Where would be the sense of telling her to make tea for the two of us?"

Della also noticed the oven was placed right underneath the window. A risky place to kill someone, as Perry Mason had also pointed out in court, but the district attorney had claimed Grant had killed his wife in a fury caused by their last argument and he had been lucky that no one had witnessed the murder.

"So why did you come downstairs in the end?" she asked.

"When Puccini restarted for a fourth time and even louder than before I had had enough and went downstairs to complain…"

"And that's when you found her?"

"First I went into the fireplace room… the music was so loud, the speakers were threatening to explode and she wasn't there. I found her in the kitchen… I kneeled down next to her… her blood soaked my pants… it was still warm…" his voice had become lower and had finally trailed off. For a few minutes neither of them said a word. Giving him time to relive the situation and gain control over the dark memories, she didn't even allow herself to breath. Then the tension suddenly disappeared and she sensed the worst moment had passed.

"Maybe we should leave this room," she gently suggested. His complexion had changed from healthy to grey and she felt herself how the house and its recent past were taking possession of her and darkened her emotions. "Let's go. I've seen enough."

Back in the hallway Della headed straight for the front door, but his voice stopped her.

"Della, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

He slowly approached her. "For bringing you here… for making you uncomfortable… for ruining our evening." He stopped in front of her and smiled bitterly at her. "I really messed it up."

"It's alright," she tried to assure with a smile. "I can stomach it." But he shook his head and sighed.

"That's not what I mean… I mean this was supposed to be a date and suddenly…"

"Suddenly what?"

"Suddenly I felt the wish to share more with you than the same bottle of wine… and I chose the memory of my wife's death… a bad choice. I have to apologize to you."

"Sometimes people need someone to share even painful memories… I really don't mind as long as I don't have to stay in here," she joked, but he remained serious. He established eye contact with her and she became aware how close he really stood. Their bodies almost touched and this time her goose bumps weren't caused by the cold of the house.

"Does that mean if I invite you again for tomorrow night, you won't say no?"

"No, I won't say no…"

"I'm glad." He broke off the eye contact and looked down at his shoes. For a few seconds he said nothing, then he lifted his head. When he spoke again his voice sounded much stronger than before, as if he had gained new strength: "You know, I think I'll never return to this… house again. I need to think of the future."

"That's a good idea," she agreed smilingly.

Her reaction caused him to smile: "Do you always have this positive attitude towards life?"

"I try to… Aunt Mae always says one has to look forward to see where the horizon starts."

He laughed, filling the deserted hallway with life. His hands lay around her upper arms, pulling her a little closer, still leaving her opportunity to step back. As he touched her, her heart beat quickened again and warmth started spreading from the spot where his hands held her into her stomach and further down into her weakening knees. His eyes roamed her face, examined, maybe memorizing every detail until they came to rest on her lips.

"And what do you think about my horizon? Is it worth exploring? "

"I'm positive," she choked, realizing she was staring at his lips as well.

Years later she remembered how his fingers had dug into her long hair as their lips had met for the first time and how strong his arms had felt around her body.

**~~tbc~~**


	8. Chapter 7

Thanks to my beta Molly!

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 7, Los Angeles 1990**

Perry Mason had the feeling of having a déjà vu. He was there in the same courtroom with the same people that had sat there with him 40 years ago. Aside from several policemen, authorized experts, and the usual curious audience, he recognized Eileen Turner, much older but still attractive, next to her her attorney, and next to him, her cousin Brandon Turner, now an old man who appeared to be sound asleep.

On the other side of the courtroom sat Taylor Kimball in a wheelchair and at her side a man who was holding her hand. A few seats in front of him, at the table where Perry used to sit he recognized the features of Thomas Grant. This time his attorney was a woman, an approximately 40 year old blonde with high heels that echoed in the courtroom like a drum every time she walked around. As he had expected, he had been summoned as a witness in this case.

The only person missing was the one who used to be at his side. Della wasn't there.

The main reason was he didn't want her to be there although she had stubbornly, like never before, insisted on attending. In the end he had convinced her only by losing his patience and bluntly saying it could easily happen that someone in the courtroom could be convinced she was the mysterious woman who was supposed to have been the mistress of Grant, if not an accessory for the killing of Edna Grant. He knew he had made a very bold and even unproved conclusion, but until he knew exactly why the case had been reopened he preferred Della as far away from Grant as possible.

If there was a new witness to testify that Grant had had a relationship with a woman, he first had to know how reliable he or she was. The risk someone could recognize in Della the lover Grant always had denied to have was too present to ignore it. Aside from that, he didn't want her near Grant. Not today, not ever again. This was maybe childish on his part, but he couldn't help it.

After she had told him about her relationship with Thomas Grant he had repeatedly asked her what the hell she had been thinking to start an affair with a man who had not only been a client, but also an alleged killer. Her answer had always been the same: she had believed in him and that he had told her the truth.

"_You knew I didn't trust him!"_

"_Did you ever consider perhaps your judgment was the wrong one? Believe me I know him better than you do and I know he did not kill his wife!" _

"_When did he tell you that, before or after you fell for him?" _

"_That's hardly the point." _

"_So what is the point? _

"_Why can't you just trust my judgment for once?" _

"_Your judgment led you to keep something like this from me for 40 years!"_

"_Because all this had nothing to do with us."_

They had had arguments like that over and over again, until she had agreed to stay away from the courtroom. As soon as he learned what was going on, he would know what to do to keep Della out of this.

It made him squirm to remember the details of the conversation he had with Della the night she told him about her and Grant. He hated to admit it, but he hadn't had a clue about this. Never in his wildest dreams he had imagined Della could have felt attracted to Thomas Grant or that he had been attracted to her.

If he was honest to himself, at that point in his life he hadn't had any idea how important she would become to him, not only as secretary, but also his friend, lover and faithful companion. He hadn't cared that much about her and now he wanted to kick himself for being so blind and unaware. He had not trusted Grant and had automatically expected her to not trust him either.

He had never considered she could follow her own instincts and – he hated to think it – her own heart and body to sleep with someone who was, in his eyes, a killer.

He heard the courtroom door opening and turned slightly. Ken Malansky came in, looking for Perry. When the young man detected the lawyer, he went quickly to him and slipped next to him on the bench.

"How is it going?" Ken whispered.

"It's getting interesting," Perry pointed to the stand. An old man swore an oath and took a seat on the stand. His name was John Carpenter. Perry recognized the name, because he had reviewed again the old files. He wrinkled his forehead. Carpenter had never testified before, because the record showed neither he nor his wife had seen anything the night Edna died.

"Who's that?" Ken asked.

"He lived close to the house in which Edna Grant had been killed."

"And why is he testifying now and not 40 years ago?"

"That's what I want to know as well," Perry said.

The questioning started with the usual routine until Eileen Turner's attorney showed the judge a small book, that he identified as diary of Mildred Carpenter, John's late wife.

"Is that your wife's diary?" the attorney asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"And when did you see it for the first time?"

"After her death two months ago."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Was there anything written that is connected to the case we're dealing with in this trial?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Please, go ahead."

"My wife wrote in her diary that she had seen Mr. Grant with a woman in his house shortly after the trial had ended."

"I see… did she know the woman? Had she seen her before?"

"No, Sir."

"Did she write what Mr. Grant and the woman were doing?"

"She wrote they kissed."

The people in the courtroom started whispering and the attorney waited until the judge had admonished the crowd before he continued.

"Would you care to read the passage for us?" The attorney gave the man the diary, who first took out his glasses and then opened the diary to start reading.

"What is this proving?" Ken asked lowly while the man started reading.

"40 years ago the whole case based on the idea of Grant having a secret mistress who worked as accessory. To get free from his wife and get all of her money he had to kill Edna, but the mysterious woman was never found and Grant always denied she existed."

"You tried to find her as well?"

"Yes, but without success. Every trace was a dead end. In the end Grant got free, because of lack of evidence. He was lucky."

"I see and if they can prove that mysterious lover existed it's possible Grant can be proven guilty," Ken concluded.

"That will depend on several other aspects as well… they never found the murder weapon for example."

"_I know it wasn't right sneaking to the window, but since I knew Mr. Grant wasn't at home, I thought a prowler was in the house. I don't know who the woman was, but she looked very beautiful and elegant in her green dress. They stayed just for a few minutes in the kitchen and they left for the hallway. I could see them talking and then he started kissing her… and Lord what a kiss…" _the witness broke off and closed the diary.

"Did you wife ever tell you about what she saw that night?"

"No, Sir."

"But the two of you had followed the trial?"

"In the papers, yes."

"So you knew the police was searching for a woman in connection to Mr. Grant?"

"Yes."

"Do you think your wife never related the events of that evening with the killing of Edna Grant?"

"Objection. The witness cannot possibly say what his wife was thinking 40 years ago."

"Alright, alright. Let me rephrase the question..."

* * *

"Grant's attorney didn't have much to offer," Ken said, as they left the courtroom.

"Just as me… the case was a risk 40 years ago and it's a bigger risk now," Perry mused.

"So, why did you call me? Do you want me to help you finding this woman?" Ken asked. "By the way, where's Della?"

The lawyer didn't answer Ken's last questions. He simply ignored it and said: "What I want you to do is proving that the woman Mrs. Carpenter saw was not the motive for the killing of Edna Grant."

**~~tbc~~ **


	9. Chapter 8

_The story must go on and before we all forget what this was all about I'm going to post the next chapter now. Hope this sets some things about our favourite couple straight. Thanks to Molly who keeps me busy and enjoy! _

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 8, Los Angeles, 1990**

After the TV report about the trial had ended, Della switched off her TV and threw the remote into the corner of the sofa. The reporters had done a great job with digging out information on the trial 40 years ago. They had even shown old newspaper articles and pictures, on which she had discovered her own face more than once. She grinned ironically to herself when she thought about how times had changed and how old she had become since the Grant trial.

She couldn't believe her own past had started haunting her. Her relationship with Thomas Grant had only lasted a few months and as much as she sometimes enjoyed to remembering her time with him, it had broken apart for a very good reason. Some people would call it cold feet on her part, but that wasn't the whole truth. The first time Thomas had proposed marriage, she been blown away and had almost agreed. It had been her common sense that had told her to wait a bit before agreeing. He had understood and had waited for her answer and things had steadily gone downhill from there. Case after case had kept her in the office at Perry's side. Very often she had stayed until after midnight and she had understood that no man believed for very long a secretary just stayed with her boss in an office all night long just for work. And truth was her work hadn't been the only reason.

Thomas had become quite jealous and the arguments about her job and especially her devotion to it became a regular subject between them.

Then she and Perry had made the trip to London. It had changed everything between them and it had certainly changed her relationship to Thomas.

Perry had taken her with him to London because of an international law convention. She had made her decision to go to England without thinking about the consequences it could have for her relationship with Thomas and when she had returned, it had been more than obvious their relationship was over, although the physical attraction had still been there.

It was still there, if she were honest with herself, but today she could control it. Meeting him on the cruise ship had made her struggle and had caused a dangerous flashback of memories, but she had had her emotions in check. He still had the ability to make her dizzy and his presence confused her to a certain extent, but not so much that she started questioning her life or her decisions.

What she felt for Thomas Grant couldn't in the least be compared with the love she felt for Perry. Her whole world turned around him and nothing would ever change that. Right now, she couldn't make Perry listen to her because he was still too hurt, but she was determined to make him listen sooner or later.

The telephone rang, disturbing her thoughts. Her instinct told her it wasn't Perry who called and she was right.

"Della?" She frowned when she heard his voice.

"Yes."

"How are you?"

"I should be asking you that... I'm sorry, you have to go through this again," she said and sank onto the chair next to the phone. He sighed.

"Let's say I always knew this was going to haunt me again some day. Eileen hates me. I don't know why, but she does..." his voice trailed off.

"What is it, Tom?" she asked after a while. She sensed he wanted to talk, but had no idea where or how to start.

"I missed you in the courtroom today."

"I had my reasons for staying away," she said, which prompted him to chuckle lowly: "I guess your lawyer told you to keep a low profile... he certainly hasn't lost his touch."

"So..."

"Can I see you?"

"Tom..."

"I'm serious. I want to talk to you in person... I need to see you."

"I doubt this a good idea," she said in an useless attempt to convince him to leave the subject alone.

"Don't tell me he's more of a jealous fool than I am," Grant retorted. "Come on... it won't hurt that much if we meet... and if it hurts you should ask yourself why."

She closed her eyes, contemplating his last statement. He wasn't wrong and he wasn't right. Perry wouldn't like it if she met Thomas Grant.

"Okay... so where and when?"

"What about the park? Tomorrow morning 11 a.m.?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

After he had briefed Ken about the case (without telling him in detail how Della had been involved with Grant), Perry had told his driver to take him to Grant's apartment house. It was time for chat with his former client.

Thomas Grant lived in a grand-sized penthouse apartment in Beverly Hills. Perry had no doubt Grant would receive him without invitation or announcement. Both men had looked at one another in the courtroom; a short, but intense moment that had revealed the genuine animosity between them.

Perry announced himself through the security man in the entrance hall and was instantly granted admission to use the elevator to the penthouse.

Grant welcomed him with the most adequate disregard. The door to his apartment stood open, but Grant didn't wait for him in the doorstep. As Perry had expected, the apartment was one of the kind only a rich bachelor could afford.

Through the large panorama windows the view over Beverly Hills was breathtaking. The white and black furniture mirrored the clear structure of the business man who lived within those walls. The interior was exquisite, but a female touch was missing. He found Thomas Grant in the roof garden. He stood at the rail with a drink in his hand, watching the setting sun. He turned when he heard Perry entering the roof garden.

"I've been waiting for you, Mason. It's been three hours since we've left court. I expected you to would be quicker."

"Let's say these days you're not the first person on my priority list," Perry returned. Thomas Grant turned and the two man looked at each other, estimating and curious. The line was drawn silently; both knew why they were here, but it took one of them to name the subject.

"I thought so... I'm sorry, you can't enjoy the trial as much as you might want," Grant shrugged.

Perry let this eyes roam his new environment, trying to picture Della in the apartment or here in the roof garden. He hadn't asked her details about her relationship with Grant so far, though sooner or later he needed to know more about them. But until now he had found it too painful to talk with her about how it started or why or what she had felt when she had been lying in his arms.

As if he were reading the lawyer's mind, Grant said: "Before you ask, yes, she's been here... a few times. She helped me select it. I bought it after the trial, because I couldn't return to the house I shared with Edna."

"Understandable. And so you bought a new apartment for you and your... new girlfriend."

"Well, I had hoped she would move in with me someday... as my wife. She was the one who decided not to."

"And why?"

"That's a question she has to answer."

"So what do you say to Eileen Turner's accusations?"

"Eileen is a bitter old woman. I have no idea why she's doing this to me."

"But apparently she thinks she can prove your guilt."

"All she has is this diary entry from an annoying busybody... alright, Mildred Carpenter saw Della and me that night, but Eileen and her attorney are the only ones who're drawing the wrong conclusions. Della and I were in the house after the trial, not before. We didn't even know each other before the police arrested me. So there's nothing Eileen will be able to prove."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Perry said sternly. "The fact that you couldn't wait to make your moves on another woman so shortly after the trial ended doesn't add to your defense."

Grant grinned bitterly: "Life's a funny thing... I highly doubt you can know what it means to lose everything and to get back just a tiny little bit of hope... Della was the only person who really believed in me. She had no reservations towards me. She was just there and one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I fell for her and I did everything to get her... she didn't object. It takes two to tango, Counselor."

"Thank you for the briefing. Believe me, if I ever hear with one word that you did something to her of which she didn't approve, you'll wish you'd never been born."

"I guess that draws the battle line when it comes to Della. But what about you and your reputation? It won't add to your reputation if it comes out you successfully defended a killer."

"I can live with that."

"Maybe, maybe not..." Grant sighed and approached him. "I'm going to tell you now, Mason, what I've already told you 40 years ago: I did not kill my wife. My life with her was a living hell and I admit I was thinking about escaping from her and her devious family, but I never even thought of killing her."

"Alright. I can't say it's easy for me to believe that, but as I see it, what I believe doesn't matter anyway. My only concern is Della and how we can keep her out of this."

"I have no intention of telling anyone who the woman was Mildred saw that evening."

"But a testimony from Della could help you."

"No, I don't want her to testify for me."

"Is your lawyer accepting this?"

Grant smiled: "She isn't, but that's not my problem. My lawyer will have to find something else to make sure Eileen won't succeed with her lame attempt to make me pay for a crime I didn't commit."

**~~tbc~~**

**_I really like to know what you think about this ;-) _  
**


	10. Chapter 9

Time to move on with Mr. Grant... thanks to Molly for betaing this. Enjoy and let me know what you think... _will she or will she not? _

**TCOT Seductive Defendant  
**

**Chapter 9 - Los Angeles, 1990**

After his visit to Grant's apartment, Perry returned to Della's house. After his conversation with Thomas Grant he felt the urgent need to see Della. The dive into her past had left him aching for her, because he suddenly knew how he needed to understand her. She had always been a very private person who hardly talked about herself and since he had thought he knew her, questioning her had never been essential for him. But on his way to her house, he kept asking himself if it was necessary now.

He disliked Grant, didn't trust him and had no idea how to read him.

What did Della see in him? What had she seen in him to.. to what? Fall in love with him? Had she been in love with Grant? That was something he still didn't know, because he hadn't asked her directly.

He declined her offer to make something for him for dinner and just asked her to sit down with him.

"I paid Grant a visit this afternoon," he told her, awaiting her reaction.

She paused, surprised, and asked: "What did you want there?"

"I wanted to talk to him..."

"Asking him if he wanted to confess to killing his wife?"

He didn't answer immediately. The problem was complex and aside from in addition to pushing aside his personal feelings, he needed to collect his thoughts.

"The problem is another one," he sighed. "Della, the reason why Eileen Grant was able to push charges against Grant is, she found a diary in which a neighbor of the Grants described how she saw Grant and an unfamiliar woman visiting his house only a few days after the trial had ended. She saw Grant and the woman kissing." Holding his breath he waited for her reaction only to find his biggest fear confirmed. Della swallowed and her face lost its color, but she said nothing.

"Was that you?" Perry asked.

"Could be... we did visit the house."

Her vague answer angered him, "You had gone with him to the house where Edna had been killed only a few days after the trial had ended? Strange place for a date!" He didn't make the attempt to hide his sarcasm.

"I can't remember why we went there... I guess he asked me, because I know we were talking about the evening she died... how he found her..." she broke off, uneasy and annoyed at the same time.

"You kissed him?"

"Yes, we kissed there... and before you ask, no, nothing else happened that night or in the house."

Of course the thought had been nagging at him for the last few hours, but her explanation didn't make him feel any better. There were still too many unanswered questions. Too many things he couldn't explain. He felt left hanging and he hated it.

"So when did it start?"

When did it start? In her opinion it had started the moment she had called Thomas Grant after he had sent her the flowers, because she knew back then she wasn't calling him to exchange cooking recipes with him. But Perry meant something else and again she couldn't offer him an exact date.

"We went out for dinner a few times," she told him lowly. "And one evening he took me home... and stayed." He just stayed. No fanfares, no overtures. Perry sighed grumpily, but preferred not to comment her story. Instead he cleared his throat and said: "Eileen's lawyer wants to prove Grant's mistress – the phantom we never found – really existed. With the diary of Grant's neighbor they found something to build on. I guess these days they're busy trying to find who the woman in the house was."

"You think they could come after me?" Della asked doubtfully.

"Only if they find someone who could identify you... did anyone know about your relationship?"

Della shook her head, "No. We never told anyone."

"No hotel rooms? No rented apartment?" He felt sick asking those questions, but he needed to know, since her past with Grant could come to haunt her. Again she shook her head. She had been a newcomer in town, a greenhorn, and her closest friends at that time had been Perry and Paul – and Thomas Grant. She had started socializing with other people after she had left Grant and had realized she needed some people in her life that weren't connected to crime.

"What about your neighbors? Did they ever see him when he visited you or brought you home?"

"I don't know... maybe they did... It was a long time ago."

Silence fell. For a few minutes only the sound of the wall clock filled the room with life, then Della broke the silence.

"I don't like what is happening with us."

"Me neither," he admitted.

"So?"

"I can't understand you... how could you fall for someone like him? Why did you hide it from me?"

"I didn't hide it... I just didn't mention it. We only saw each other for a couple of months..."

"But he asked you to marry him..." he said, still unable to understand.

"He didn't know what he was suggesting," she objected.

"How's that?"

"We hardly knew each other... and... I guess he was more in love with me than I was with him. It took me some time to realize I was fooling myself, because I felt lonely and he was so..." she broke off, exhaled and added: "Let's say he swept me off my feet for a few weeks."

"And what happened then?"

She gave him a look. "What happened? A certain someone asked me to go with him to an international law conference in London..." she didn't have to add much more. He remembered vividly how well they had gotten along in London. He also remembered how jealous his girlfriend Laura had been, when he had taken Della with him than instead of asking her to join him.

"We grew quickly apart after I came home. Any questions left, Counselor?"

"I only want to know what you feel for him these days."

She leaned back, taking her time to answer him, "He's rich, successful, very attractive and charming, but he's also someone who can be quite mysterious and challenging." She paused, thinking how to explain herself. "Back then, I liked this... electricity and this sizzling that surrounds him, but today..." she bent over to Perry and placed her hands on his shoulder. "Today I'm not so stupid to lose the love of my life for a fling... you heard right, Counselor. That's what it was. A short affair. Can you live with that?"

It took him only a few heartbeats to nod, "I guess I can."

She gave him a smile and kissed him, first tenderly and, when she felt he didn't object,with growing passion.

"I love you, Counselor. Don't you ever forget that."

* * *

A few hours later, when Perry was sound asleep, Della sneaked out her bedroom and made a call. Hoping Thomas Grant was asleep as well, she waited until his answering machine started spilling its usual orders and said: "I doubt meeting you is a good idea. I'm sorry, but there's nothing left to talk. Goodbye, Tom."

* * *

The next morning, Ken arrived promptly at 8 a.m. for breakfast and a briefing. They had settled around the table in Della's dining room and between eggs, toast, and coffee Perry started dividing the work that needed to be done.

"Ken, you and I will pay Miss Turner a visit this morning. It could be interesting to know, why she's so eager to bring Grant down after these years."

"And what about the investigator who found the diary? Maybe it's a fake... I can imagine Eileen was willing to pay a lot of money for any kind of evidence that suddenly justified a new trial."

Della bit her lips, but didn't say a thing while she took some notes. She wondered how long it would take Ken to find out about her and Grant.

"That's a good idea. We should talk to him before the trial continues tomorrow. Della?"

She looked up.

"Yes?"

"Could you make some calls and try to find out what Grant has been doing the last 40 years? Could be interesting to know if Eileen's and his paths have crossed. Maybe there's more between them than just old hate, caused of her late sister."

She wasn't happy with her task, but she agreed. She knew why he wanted her to dig into Grant's past. The method was called disenchanting.

"I'll do my best, Boss."

* * *

Two hours and some calls later, Della had gained just the kind of information Perry probably had hoped she would find.

Thomas Grant had moved to Chicago a few months after Della's separation from him and in 1971 he had remarried. His bride had been a woman half his age, named Lola Bergstein. According to Della's source in Chicago, the woman had been a charming, beautiful woman with brown eyes and long brown hair. Not exactly the type people had expected from the millionaire known as a ladies' man, but still interesting enough to attract the attention of Chicago's upper class and the tabloids. Her tragic death in a car accident in 1975 caused a wave of sympathy for the grieving widower until it became public knowledge the accident wasn't an accident.

The police discovered that the brakes of the car had been manipulated so that Lola had no chance when she lost control over her car in a curve outside the city. Of course, Thomas Grant himself had been a suspect since he had been charged with murder before, but in the end nobody could find enough evidence for a murder charge for the death of Lola Bergstein Grant. After living in Europe for several years, Grant had finally returned to L.A. in 1987. He had never married again, nor had he been seen with a woman who could have been considered as the third Mrs. Grant.

Della swallowed and abandoned her pencil, lost in her thoughts. She desperately wanted to trust Thomas Grant and her instincts about him, but she couldn't help but feel insecure after hearing about the fate of Lola. But Lola hadn't been rich nor had the marriage been a disaster, as the one with Edna. Thomas had had no obvious reason to kill his second wife. Had someone been using his past against him? Or was he the type of a black widower?

She rose from her chair to get herself a fresh cup of coffee, but changed direction as the doorbell rang.

Before she opened, she checked through the window next to front door to see who her

visitor was and wasn't happy when she saw a large limousine parked right behind her car. Being subtle had never been a strength of Mr. Grant.

Contemplating not ignoring him, she stepped back and waited, but he rang again and she knew he wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted.

"To run and hide doesn't suit you, Della," he said, when she opened the door.

"We shouldn't be seen together," she told him nervously while checking the area around the house.

"I know... the park was a bad idea," he agreed, a bit crestfallen. "You have this effect on me. I sometimes lose my ability to think straight."

"Tom..." she started, but he raised his hand, silencing her.

"Wait, Della... I don't know about your neighborhood, but mine proved to be kind of noisy. Why don't you join me for a ride, while we talk?" He pointed at his car. "The windows are tinted, the driver won't hear a word... please, Della... I promise you'll be back in less than one hour."

**~tbc~**


	11. Chapter 10

_Thanks to Molly for being my beta and adviser! You rock, girl!_

**TCOT Seductive Defendant**

**Chapter 10 - Los Angeles, 1990**

Perry and Ken left the car and went to Eileen Turner's house. After her father's death she had stayed in the family mansion. She had never married and wasn't exactly known for her social life. Aside from some small charity organizations, she wasn't involved in anything citizens from Los Angeles would call interesting.

Once, the house had been a lively place where the Grants had hosted numerous parties, but that had changed after Sebastian Turner, Edna and Eileen's father, had become ill. Eileen had been young when first her sister and later her father had passed away and she hadn't seemed to recover from her losses and had become a recluse.

"The house looks odd," Ken remarked, after he had rung the doorbell.

"It's a house," Perry said smilingly.

"I mean the place looks scary. Like stuck in another time."

Perry looked up the flawless face of the old house and the tidy garden and he remembered the sight as the same of 40 years ago. He had been in the house just once, to question Sebastian and Eileen and both hadn't been eager to talk to him. As with many other interviews in this case it had been a dead end.

"Maybe it is stuck in its own world," Perry replied lowly.

A maid, a grey-haired woman, opened the door.

"Yes, please?"

"My name is Mason. This is Mr. Malansky. I think Miss Turner is expecting us. I called her this morning."

"Yes, Sir. Come in, please."

The maid stepped back, allowing them to enter the house. She offered to take their coats, but both men declined. The house was cold and the hallway dark. They knew they wouldn't stay longer than necessary as they followed the maid, while she led them down the hallway. Music reached their ears and became louder when they approached the door at the end of the corridor. A woman's high soprano echoed through the house and her sad tirade about the cruelty of death added its part to the dark atmosphere of the mansion.

The maid knocked and a hushed "Yes!" was the answer. She opened the door that led into a half-darkened room. The curtains were closed and a few candles on the mantlepiece of the fireplace illuminated the scene. A fire had heated the room to an extent that made it hard to breath. Everything was tidy and exquisitely furnished, the walls were covered with bookshelves and framed pictures. Perry heard how Ken held his breath, obviously unwilling to enter. Eileen Turner sat in an armchair, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. The music in the background was reaching a painful crescendo.

"Miss Turner." Perry passed Ken and strode towards her.

"Mr. Mason," Eileen greeted him. "How nice to see you again." Her voice sounded friendly, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I think I saw you in court yesterday."

"That's true."

"I can imagine you aren't happy about the latest developments," she said, somehow careless.

"I'm curious, Miss Turner."

"Who is the young man you brought with you?" Eileen asked, as she eyed Ken.

"Mr. Malansky is my partner. We want to talk to you about the trial."

"Why don't you come in young man? Have a seat. You look pale."

Ken did as ordered and entered the living room. He sank on the couch, his eyes vividly roaming his environment, and sighed in relief when the music finally faded and the room became silent. He hated opera, especially because he couldn't understand a word of what they were singing.

"You enjoy opera?" Perry asked curiously.

"Yes, opera is the only civilized way music people invented and Puccini was a master of his profession," Eileen answered. "So what is it you want?"

"As I said, I'm curious. Why are you now,after all these years, interested in suing your brother-in-law?"

"But isn't that obvious?"

"What do you mean?"

"The diary... It took the investigators about 10 years to find this piece of evidence. You can't imagine how long it took to find and talk to all the people who knew my sister and her husband back then. People move, they die, or they simply can't remember a thing, but I've always known that sooner or later we would find evidence to prove what he did to my sister."

"You really believe he killed her?" Perry asked.

Eileen nodded, "Absolutely. First he married her for her money, then he cheated on her with some cheap whore, and then he killed her. And you made it possible for him to get away with it." The soft tone of her voice couldn't compensate for the harsh words. Ken watched Perry as he tensed, but did his best to stay in control of himself.

"I just proved there was doubt about his guilt. It was the court's decision to set him free."

"Maybe, but this time there won't be a doubt about his guilt. I'm going to find the woman Mrs. Carpenter described in her diary."

"If she's still alive," Perry remarked coolly.

"If she's alive," Eileen admitted.

"How can you be so sure she's involved in this. How can you even be sure Mrs. Carpenter wrote the truth into her diary?"

Eileen smiled, "The diary is no fake. After his wife had died Mr. Carpenter moved to Florida. Mr. Carpenter found it after my investigator questioned him. The man hardly remembered the case and did his best to regain his memory. He searched for his late wife's diaries among her possessions, hoping she had mentioned Edna's murder. She did."

"I see, but still, why are you so sure the woman Mrs. Carpenter saw had been Mr. Grant's mistress all along?"

Eileen's smiled widened. She rose and went to the mantelpiece. Next to a chandelier stood a small wooden box which she opened.

"It's hardly substantial evidence, but I found this on the floor when I met Thomas several weeks after the trial had ended." She produced an earring from the box and showed it to Perry. It was a simple pearl, framed with gold. Perry swallowed, thinking he knew the earring.

"You went to see him in his apartment?"

Eileen shrugged, "Yes. I noticed it while talking to him and picked it up when he turned his back on me. So he was seeing a woman and I doubt he had only been seeing her after the trial." Eileen smiled deviously, her eyes glittering. "Picture it, Mr. Mason... Mrs. Carpenter saw him with the woman shortly after the trial had ended... he must have been really quick to meet a woman after he had left jail... Thomas is attractive, but how many women throw themselves at someone who has been released because of lack of evidence and go with him to the house where his wife was killed? I assume it was someone either stupid, because she wasn't afraid of a potential killer, or very much in love... but who falls so quickly? So I think he knew her before..."

"But you have no further proof for your suspect?" Perry asked, his eyes focused on the earring.

Eileen shook her head, "No."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Perry and Ken sat again in the car. Perry was lost in his thoughts while Ken watched him worriedly.

"And now?" Ken asked.

"No idea... maybe we should talk to this investigator," Perry mused.

"Why is it so important, anyway?" Ken asked. "You just did your job. Didn't you tell me you weren't sure yourself if Grant was innocent or not? Maybe he's getting what he deserves."

"Maybe you're right, but you always have to consider that a killer is never on his own. There are always people around him who get hurt in the process of revealing."

"Did that ever stop you when you wanted to know the truth?" Ken asked, his voice filled with doubt.

* * *

The telephone rang and Eileen placed the earring carefully in the box and closed it again. She took the call, ready for the message the person on the other end of the line had to provide. A smile crossed her face, as she took a pencil and made some notes. She ended the call without thanking the caller.

* * *

"You're bringing me into an impossible situation!" Della hissed. Her anger rose by the second, because she had no idea what to do now. "I have no intention of talking to you."

"You're already talking to me," he reminded her calmly. "Please, Della, we need to talk. You know it."

She thought for a short moment and then she made a decision, "Tell your driver to take you away from here. Let it look as if you just went to the wrong house. You can approach the house from the backyard, there's a small gate in the fence. If we're lucky, nobody will see you entering from there."

He raised his hands in defense, "Alright. Your place, not mine."

She shut the door, still hoping he wouldn't come back. Of course, she was wrong. He returned about 10 minutes later, knocking at the french door that lead to her small garden.

"I sneaked from one tree to the next, but I forgot to use my invisibly cloak. Besides, I feel like as if I'm having an affair with a married woman!"

"This isn't funny!" she said angrily.

He entered her house and looked around. "Your place is lovely," he remarked, now much more serious.

"Why didn't you tell me on the phone that, Eileen Turner found a diary they used against you in court?" Della asked without wasting her time on pleasantries.

"I was sure Mason would tell you everything about it. I'm sure he keeps you informed about every single detail of my case."

"I think you wanted to make sure I would agree to see you and you kept the information under the rug, because you feared I would back off if I knew they were searching for me." She had crossed her arms over her chest, awaiting his answer.

"Yes, that's the other side of the coin," he admitted. "Did he question you about the evening in the house?"

"Of course he did. It makes me wonder if your neighbor was the only person who ever saw us together and how many witnesses they could dig up."

"I don't know... but I certainly do hope Millie Carpenter was the only one. But don't worry, I hired someone to check this out."

"Did it ever occur to you, you could be under surveillance now as well right now?"

"Yes, that's why I hired someone else to make sure, no one is following me," he gave her a reassuring smile. "Believe me, whatever Eileen is trying to prove won't work. I won't let her destroy you or me."

She believed him, but she wasn't convinced. She had been working for a lawyer long enough to know that things went never as smooth as they should.

"You still could have told me this on the phone, Tom. There was no need for you to show up here."

For a second he looked down to his shoes, contemplating his answer. When he looked up again, the color of his eyes had changed. They glittered with darkness and melancholy.

"I know, but I wanted to see you... the meeting on the cruise ship got me thinking... or let's say the way you ran away from me."

"I did not run away!" she insisted. "Perry sent me a message..."

"I know you had a new case," Thomas interrupted her. "I read about it in the newspapers, but you can't tell me Mason's call was not convenient. You ran away from me. Why? And what would have been your excuse, if Mason hadn't asked for your assistance?"

She didn't answer. Thomas had hit a nerve. She had been searching for the answer to this question herself for weeks now and hadn't found any. His eyes stared demandingly at her, but she preferred to change the subject. Trying to focus on the facts of the case, instead of her emotions, she said: "Well, at least it's pretty clear you are not here to ask me to testify for you. But probably no one would believe me anyway."

"Probably not... not that we did anything forbidden, but there's nothing the public loves more than a scandal, no mater how untrue the 'facts' are. But you're right, that's not why I'm here. My visit is absolutely private."

"That's obvious."

"Please, Della, I'm aware of your relationship with Mason – he did his best to mark his territory when he came to see me yesterday. The only thing we agreed on was that neither of us wants you to get involved in this."

Actually, Perry hadn't mentioned this part of his conversation with Thomas, but she wasn't surprised by their deal. She shrugged, a bit annoyed, because they were talking in circles.

"He thinks he has to protect me and my reputation."

"And I wonder why he isn't protecting his wife's reputation," Thomas scoffed.

"Don't go there!" she warned him sternly. "That's none of your business."

"You left me for him. I think I deserve to know why he didn't bother to make it legal by now. 40 years is a long time for courtship."

Realizing he wouldn't give up before she had answered his question, she gave in, "Alright. It was my decision not to marry. Actually, I didn't want to become anyone's wife."

"Afraid to lose your independence or afraid to lose the man to another secretary who shared his obsession with crime?"

"You don't know us," she said after a long moment of tormenting silence.

"But maybe I know enough to tell you I wanted something better for you. I've missed you, Della. I wished you would have given us a chance."

She had no idea what to reply. First of all, she wasn't accustomed to a situation like this. After she had come to the conclusion that Perry Mason was the one man in her life, she had stopped dating other men. It was out of the question for her to look for someone else and she had even declined invitations for dinner when she had met someone she really liked.

Actually, Thomas Grant had been the only man she had slept with after she had met Perry and that was the problem. Grant was different from other men and, though she wasn't in love with him, she still felt connected to him.

"We had our chance and we messed it up. Leave it alone, Tom."

He took a step forward and toward her. The scent of his after shave reached her nose and she withdrew, uncomfortable with the way his visit had developed.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, when he noticed her avoiding him.

"No, I just don't like what is happening here. I wish you hadn't come here and I wish you wouldn't have brought me into this position."

He watched her as she stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she needed to protect herself from him or whatever lay in the air that made her nervous. Taking forward, he closed the distance between them and placed himself right in front of her. He smiled gently at her and said: "I guess I deserve this... treatment."

"You're quite audacious."

"When you want something you have to go and get it, but of course, that's no justification for being brazen."

"True."

Their eyes met for a while and then she startled when she felt him touching her cheek. "Don't," she mumbled and pulled back, avoiding his hand. He removed his hand and sighed, "Look, there's just one thing left I wanted to ask of you. Grant my wish and I'll leave and never come back."

"What could that be?" she asked suspiciously.

"You never kissed me goodbye."

Her jaw dropped. "You can't be serious," she said, breathlessly.

"I am serious. You should know I hardly joke about something as serious as a kiss."

He smiled at her, caressed her cheek with his thumb, while his unoccupied arms closed around her waist. Catching her completely off guard, he pressed her body against his and kissed her.

**~tbc~~**

_And now I'm off - hiding in a place where you won't find me. LOL But on the other hand you know nothing and no one can separate D & P!_**  
**


	12. Chapter 11

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 11**

**Los Angeles 1990**

"What about Taylor Kimball?" Ken asked and closed one of the old files from 1950 that held records of the Grant case. They sat in Perry's office collecting old and new information on Edna Grant's murder. Ken noticed how silent Perry had become after they had left Eileen Turner's house and was wondering what was wrong with him.

"What about her?" Perry asked. "We excluded her after we found out she lacked the opportunity to kill Edna."

"But she had a motive," Ken objected and reopened the file. "She was Grant's ex and he had left her to marry someone else."

"They were just friends," Perry explained, still absentmindedly. "I remember Della and I talked to her. There was no reason not to believe her story, especially because it matched Grant's story."

"I see," Ken said. "Mind if I do some research on her? I think she was in court yesterday."

"Yes, why not," Perry agreed automatically. "I think she didn't attend the trial 40 years ago. I wonder why she was there yesterday."

"Alright... Perry? What is it?" Ken asked, trying to gain the older man's attention. Perry shook his head. His forehead was wrinkled, his whole facial expression mirrored how worried he was.

"I don't know... it's just a feeling. Why does Puccini ring a bell?"

"Puccini?" Ken asked astonished.

"Yes... Eileen was listening to an opera... Puccini...?"

Ken wrinkled his forehead. Then he started searching for a folder on his desk.

"I read something about music..." he mumbled as he became busy searching for something. A folder fell from the desk, as he opened files, put them aside, and closed those he had opened. After a minute he said: "Here it is... Grant claimed he didn't hear any noises from downstairs about the time his wife got killed, because the music had been so loud that he couldn't hear anything else."

He gave the folder to Perry who took it with nervous anticipation.

"Edna was listening to the opera," Perry said after a quick look into the file. "To Puccini to be precise."

"Maybe both sisters like this kind of music," Ken shrugged.

"Yes, could be a coincidence. I need to talk to Grant. Try to reach his office!"

* * *

"Would you care to tell me something about Lola Bergstein?" Della asked as she passed a mug with fresh coffee to Grant.

"You know about Lola?" he asked surprised.

"What did you think Perry would do, wait until you decided to talk about you've done the last 40 years?" she said, giving him a stern look.

They were in Della's kitchen that was now flooded by sunlight. Grant had taken off his jacket, had sat down at the table and watched Della as she passed sugar to him before she leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"You have a good memory," he remarked quietly, stirring the hot liquid. "No cream, but sugar."

"Don't try to avoid my question. Lola. What happened to her?"

Grant sighed, sipped his coffee, approved of it, and said: "She had an accident. Someone sabotaged the brakes of her new car. She didn't stand a chance."

"Why did they suspect you?"

He shrugged tiredly, "I'm the black widower. Once a killer, always a killer."

"But the police didn't arrest you."

"No, because I wasn't even around when the accident happened. Lola got the car Monday and I had left town on Sunday and the owner of the dealership never talked to me, neither did I talk to him. It had been Lola's idea and decision to buy the car and I saw no reason to stick my nose into it. And later even the police had to acknowledge I had no reason to kill Lola. We had a good marriage," he stated.

"You loved her?"

"Jealous?"

"Curious."

"Well, you can't blame a man for trying," he gave her a meaningful look that earned him another sharp hiss.

"Tom..."

"Alright. No, I didn't love her, but I cared deeply for her and we got along quite well. We were friends. The best of friends actually. Satisfied?"

"Okay. I believe you."

"That's good news." She ignored his sarcasm and refilled her own cup with coffee.

"So what will you tell your precious boss?"

She shrugged, "The truth."

"Does it really work out between the two of you?"

Hearing the doubts in his voice, she gave him a cold look and put the cup back on the counter. He chuckled and rose. He strode across the room and stopped in front of her. This time he kept a safe physical distance and had his hands buried in his pocket.

"Okay, I give up... for now. But that doesn't mean I intend to stay away from you for the rest of my life," he announced.

"You did so in the last 40 years and you don't look as if you had suffered too much."

"I had to, because I couldn't even stay in the same city as you."

"Don't blame this on me."

He lowered his head, sighing in overemphasized annoyance.

"I guess that does mean you won't kiss me again to make it up to me?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an amused smile.

"No kiss unless you ask for another slap."

"Who says it isn't worth the pain?"

* * *

_Las Angeles, May 1950_

_It was early evening when Della frantically searched the whole office to find the earring she had lost. It was Friday, the office was already deserted,and Della found herself in utter panic, because the lost earring had been a present of her late parents. The pair of pearl with a golden frame weren't among her most monetarily possessions, but they meant a lot to her, especially since she lived so far away from her home and rarely went back, except for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Feeling as if those earrings were the only real existing connection to her past, she had fondly clung to them and now one was missing. She knew she had the tendency to lose an earring, because she always took one off when she answered the phone, but she had always done her best to ensure that pair would remain together. Against her usual rule not to contact him when she was at work, she had already called Thomas at his office to ask him if he knew where her earring was, but he hadn't seen it either. As a result of her growing frustration she had canceled their date for tonight and had decided to stay home – searching for her favorite piece of jewelry and reveling in her misery. _

_Sure she had searched every square centimeter of the law office at least three times and had found nothing but well hidden dust bunnies, she gave up with tears in her eyes and a quickly developing headache. She sat on her knees next to the conference table in Perry's office and asked herself if she should just stay on the floor and start to cry or whether she should leave and try to make it home before giving way to the tears. _

_While she fought with her tears, Della didn't notice as Perry entered the room through the back door. He stopped dead at his desk when he saw his secretary kneeing on the floor. _

"_Della?" he asked, half-surprised, half-shocked. "What are you doing... do you feel all right?" He quickly crossed the room and gently supported her when she rose. Embarrassed because he had caught her, she quickly wiped a single tear from her cheek and did her best to fake a smile. She didn't succeed, because all her face could produce was a distorted grimace. _

"_I'm fine." _

"_No, you are not. I can tell. So what is it?" _

_He pulled a chair right behind her and made her sit down. He sank on the chair next to hers. Surprised to detect real concern for her on his face, she blushed. Mentally calling herself stupid, because she instantly found herself hoping he had finally started seeing her as a real woman instead of a his employee, she avoided his piercing eyes and turned her face to the window._

"_It's actually ridiculous... I lost something and can't find it." _

"_What did you lose?" Amazed that he still didn't sound amused, she faced him again. _

"_An earring... it's nothing special, but my mother gave it to me, before she died. It had belonged to her mother... and stupid me goes on and loses one of them." _

"_When did you last wear them?" _

"_On Wednesday..." _

_He looked around, musing,"We weren't in court then... have you been out after office hours? Maybe you lost it somewhere?" _

_She bit her lip. She had seen Thomas that evening. They had had dinner in his apartment, but she couldn't remember if she had already lost the earring when she arrived there or later... but since it wasn't in his apartment, then she could only have lost it in the office..._

"_No... I've searched my apartment all evening last night. It isn't there." _

"_I see," the lawyer mumbled and rose. He helped himself to a cigarette and lit it. "And you have searched the whole office?" _

"_Yes... before I sent her home Gertie had helped me as well. It's not here... maybe I lost it somewhere outside..." _

_Perry returned to his chair, offered her his handkerchief, and gave her a smile. "Can you tell me what it looks like?" _

"_I can show you," she nodded and rose to get her purse from her office. "That's the other one," she said, as she passed the earring to him.  
_

"_That's a beautiful piece," he remarked gently, as he held the earring in his hand. "You know what? We'll search for it one last time now and after that we'll go out to have dinner." _

"_But..." she shook her head in disbelief. "Weren't you supposed to go out tonight?" She remembered he had asked her to make a reservation for two in a new Spanish restaurant for tonight. _

"_My plans have changed," he answered, avoiding a straight answer. "But that doesn't change the fact I'm hungry. You see, I came here because I wanted to get some work done, something that can actually wait. Now I have the chance to go out with a beautiful woman who needs to be cheered up." He gave her a bright smile. "Any objection?" _

_She returned the smile and shook her head, "No objection, Counselor." _

_

* * *

_

"I can't reach Grant," Ken said. "His secretary says he never appeared in the office. He took the day off, because he wanted to meet an old friend."

"An old friend?" Perry asked suspiciously. He thought for a moment and then he picked up the receiver. While dialing Della's telephone number he ordered: "Get the car ready! We're going to Eileen Turner."

"But we've just been there..."

"Yes, and now we go back there."

"And why?"

"Because I think Miss Turner didn't tell us the truth."


	13. Chapter 12

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 12**

"Why do you think Eileen didn't tell us the truth?" Ken asked as they sat again in his car driving across back to Eileen Turner's house.

"I don't know... I wanted to ask to Grant to get his confirmation of something, but since we can't reach him, we have to go back and talk to Miss Turner again."

"About what?" Ken asked again, this time more insisting.

"The earring, Ken, the earring."

"What about it?" He became impatient.

"Don't you think it's strange that someone picks up the earring of a stranger and hides it for in a box for over 40 years?" Perry asked.

Ken thought for a moment, then he shrugged, "Well, it's not sane, but honestly, the whole lady herself didn't look very sane to me."

"Yes, and that's what scares me."

* * *

Della watched Thomas Grant as he finished his coffee and returned the cup to her. As her hands closed around the porcelain he took advantage of the moment and placed his hands around hers.

"Just because I don't want another slap," he said mildly. "Will you say no when I invite you for dinner?"

"Yes, I will say no."

"You wound me," he joked, but Della noticed how his eyes darkened for a few seconds.

"Look, I made my decision a long time ago," she said, feeling the need to justify herself. "We wouldn't have worked out. Not like two people should when they decide to stay together for the rest of their lives."

Releasing her hands, he nodded gently and allowed her to put the cup into the sink.

"Why are you so sure about that?" he asked. "You never really gave us a chance... I didn't want to believe it back then, but later I realized you were the one who always backed off when I wanted us to become closer. Look, Della... fact is we had some great times... we had a lot of fun – in and outside the bedroom!"

"Yes, but that's hardly enough to build a common life," she objected and tried to hide her flushed cheeks.

"And now I want you to go, before Perry returns. I doubt he would be happy about your presence here."

Della gave him his jacket as a final sign to acknowledge their conversation was over.

"All right, Miss Street, all right. I get the message. I'm going – for today."

He followed her into the living room. "I'm serious, Tom. Don't call me, don't send me invitations, don't send me flowers."

"I can't promise that."

Her mouth opened to object but the words died on her lips as the doorbell rang.

"Delivery service, I assume," Thomas said with a grin.

"It's probably the postman."

"I wouldn't count on that."

The surprise on her face and in her voice couldn't have been bigger if the President himself had been waiting in front of her door. At first she didn't recognize the woman, but then she remembered the eyes and the shape of the face. The last time she had seen her, all this had been hidden under a big black hat. The black hat that looked like one of a grieving widow...

"Yes, please?"

The woman smiled brightly, almost dreamily.

"Miss Street. I don't know if you remember me... my name is Eileen Turner."

"Of course I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"I think you and I have a common friend who is standing in your living room."

* * *

_Los Angeles, May 1950 _

"_I thought you've given up that vice?" Thomas asked smilingly while Della crawled over him to get herself a cigarette and a lighter from the nightstand next to the bed. He sat upright, leaning against the head of the bed and watched her with an amused, though admiring smile. _

"_I said I tried to give it up..." _

"_Alright... in dubio pro reo... and what are you doing now?" he chuckled when she pushed herself over the edge of the bed to have a closer look at the floor. _

"_I'm still searching for my earring," she answered. "But it's no use." She sighed when she moved herself back on her side of the bed and pulled the blanket over her body. _

_He took the lighter and helped her light the cigarette. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and the first weekend they had spent in the brand new penthouse apartment Thomas had bought two weeks earlier. The two storey apartment offered a terrific view over Beverly Hills and a lot of privacy. So far his only neighbor was an old man who never left his apartment. _

"_Why are you here?" he asked as his hand ran slowly over her naked back. _

"_Excuse me? I thought that was obvious." _

"_That's not what I mean... here with me... a beautiful woman like you. Don't tell me there's not man out there who has asked you to marry him at least twice. There's no need for you to meet with someone who has lost his reputation in court."_

_She gave him a pensive look while she was slowly inhaling. So far he had always avoided asking her direct questions about her past or the life she spent outside his apartment and she had been grateful for it. She had never liked talking about herself and just enjoyed to being herself without answering question. Then there were days when she couldn't stand herself, because she felt like coward with all the sneaking around she was doing. Often at night when she alone in her own apartment or when she sat next to her boss, she asked herself what he would thought of her, if he knew she was sleeping with one of his former clients - one he didn't like and probably considered guilty.  
_

"_Actually there were two who asked me..." she said absentmindedly and focused on the glowing end of her cigarette._

"_I'm all ears..." When he noticed her hesitation, he added gently: "You know everything about me while I know almost nothing about you... I know you miss you earring, but I don't know why it means so much to you that you even skip your rule not to call me from the office..." _

_Knowing he was right, she sighed silently and settled into his embrace. _

"_The earrings were a present from my mother before she died," she started slowly. "I need it back, because that's all I've left of her." _

"_That's sad. What about your father?" _

"_He's dead as well...I miss them very much."_

"_I can understand that. I lost my parents when I was 12... I know the feeling of missing one's roots. We'll find your earring. I promise it!" He kissed her hair. "So... tell me about No.1" _

"_No. 1?" she asked, uncertain if the man she was thinking of deserved the title. "Michael Dominico," she answered. "Puppy love... we were engaged, but nothing happened between us and it ended when I found with him Ethel Jenkins on the backseat of his uncle's car." _

"_No pretty sight, I assume," Thomas said dryly and Della confirmed his statement with an ironic smile. _

"_To say the least." _

"_And No. 2?" _

"_No. 2" she repeated, a little lower. "No. 2 was a bit different... he's dead."_

"_I'm sorry," he said tenderly. "What happened." _

"_He was combat pilot... they shot him down over Belgium in 1944..." she said wearily, while she got lost in her memories. "The evening he left for Europe I knew he wouldn't come back." _

_Thomas turned her face to him, kissed her, took the still glowing cigarette, and stubbed it out. Then he placed the ashtray back on the nightstand. _

"_I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair as he pulled her back into his arm. "I had no idea I could hurt you with my questions." _

"_You didn't hurt me," she assured him. "I'm just not used to talking about it, that's all." _

"_You never talk much about yourself... why?"_

_She laughed lightly against his chest and shrugged, "Because there isn't much to say... small town girl, secretary... that's all." _

"_Oh no, wait... you're pretty smart for a small town girl.. and quite witty... and you have courage... plenty of it. Ask Mason if you don't believe me!"_

"_Why him?" she asked, surprised, and realized her heart had stopped beating for a moment when Thomas had mentioned Perry Mason's name. _

"_What else could be reason for him to keep you in his office after office hours?" _

_She faked an amused smile, "Are you jealous?" _

_Turning out of his embrace, she moved herself on top of him so that she could have a full look at his face. _

"_A bit... did you tell him we're seeing each other?" _

_Della shook her head while she traced his lips with her thumb, "No... I don't see any reason for telling him." _

_

* * *

_

_A few hours later both enjoyed a simple dinner and wine in the kitchen. To Della's surprise Thomas had cooking skills she could only dream of. Although she wasn't a bad cook, she couldn't say she enjoyed preparing meals. In her opinion, __cooking was a necessary evil to survive and hardly worth a competition. _

"_What are you doing?" he asked when he saw her picking up the dishes to carry them to the sink. _

"_You cooked, I do the dishes." _

"_We can do it together..." he approached her. "The faster we clean the kitchen, the faster we can go outside in the roofgarden and watch the stars!" He kissed her tenderly. _

"_You're the romantic type," she teased, sneaking around him to take the dishes safely to the kitchen counter. _

"_I heard women like it when men are romantic." _

_Before she could counter, the doorbell echoed through the apartment. Surprised, they exchanged a quick look. _

"_Are you expecting someone?" she asked and felt suddenly caught red-handed. Their appearance wasn't presentable in the slightest. While he wore at least his pajama pants and a robe, she was wrapped in nothing more__than a short silk robe. _

"_No... I haven't even told anyone where I live. Stay here." _

_He left the kitchen and she leaned against the kitchen counter and waited. When she heard a woman's voice in the living room, she tiptoed to the kitchen door, trying to understand what was spoken. Thinking she remembered the voice, __she pressed her ear closer to the door. _

"_Why are you here?" she heard him asking. _

"_I wanted to know how you are." _

"_Fine," he said, aghast. "Just fine, and you?" _

"_Fine... I've never been better... I'm going to get married." _

"_Really? That's wonderful news! Congratulations..." _

_Della wrinkled her forehead and stepped back from the door. She couldn't swear an oath on it, but the voice sounded like Taylor Kimball, the woman she and Perry had been to see several weeks ago, because they had been hoping to find a suspect in her. _

_How did she know where Thomas' apartment was? For the next few minutes, Della just leaned back against the counter and waited. She could hardly leave the kitchen and expose herself, nor did she want to eavesdrop. Some time later she heard steps and the front door. Relieved the visitor was gone, she breathed out and relaxed. _

"_Seems I have to buy another place," Thomas joked when he returned."I can't believe she came here!" _

"_Taylor Kimball?" Della asked carefully. _

"_Yes, you know her?" _

"_Mh... Perry and I went to see her some weeks ago."_

"_Eliminating possible killers? Thomas asked, amused. _

"_No, finding potential killers. But she lacked opportunity." _

"_Believe me, she couldn't hurt a fly. So where did we stop?" he asked and pulled her into his embrace. "We stopped at our dishes," she reminded him, avoiding his kiss. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can enjoy the sunset." _

"_Ah, right, the sunset... I forgot. You know, I have an idea." _

_She crossed the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. Her voice was covered by the noise of the running water as she turned on the faucet, "Tell__." _

"_The next time someone shows up here, you don't have to hide in the kitchen..." _

"_What are you talking about?" she asked curiously. _

"_Haven't you noticed by now I'm a decent man at heart?" he asked laughingly, while he studied her clueless face. Alarmed by the glitter in his eyes, she turned off the faucet and dried her hands in a towel. _

"_What is it?" _

"_Taylor just gave me a great idea, you know... we could make it legal... tonight... tomorrow, any time you want." _

_She gasped, but before he could add something, her hand covered his mouth. _

"_Wait, wait..but... no... it's way too early!" _

_He nodded, now utterly serious, "So, __when will it not be too early to ask you to become my wife and leave this town and our past behind?" _

_She gave him a long, pensive look, "I don't know, but I'll let you know." _

_

* * *

_

"I'm sorry, but Miss Turner left the house over an hour ago?"

Ken checked his watch, "Do you know where she was going?"

The maid shook her head and said in a worried voice, "No, but she told me there was no need to fix dinner for her."

"Would you say this is unusual?" Perry asked, his eyes narrowing, when he noticed the uneasiness of the maid.

"Yes, Sir, because she never stays out for dinner."

"Let's go, Ken!" Perry ordered, suddenly possessed by a sense of forebonding, and turned quickly.

"And where?" Ken asked,confused, trying to keep track.

"To Della."

"Where else..."

**~tbc~ **


	14. Chapter 13

Again thanks to Molly for being a great help ;-) I guess we all knew this chapter would arrive sooner or later, but well... read yourself and consider killing me won't help to finish this ;-)

**TCOT Seductive Defendant**

**Chapter 13**

_**Los Angeles, 1990, **_

_**15 minutes earlier.**_

"_Yes?"_

"_Della?" Relief flooded Perry when he heard Della's warm voice and for a moment he just kept his eyes closed._

"_Yes, Perry. What is it?" she cleared her throat. _

"_Are you all right?" He asked, and the relief instantly turned back into fear. "You sound strange." _

"_I'm fine... I just choked on my coffee. What is it?" _

_He narrowed his eyebrows, suddenly knowing she wasn't telling the truth. Her voice carried a nervous tremor that told him something was wrong. _

"_Listen, we have to talk to Grant... have you seen him?" _

"_No." _

_The next lie. He moved on his seat, uneasy and with rising anger, because he suddenly knew Grant was there in her house. _

"_If you hear from him, ask him about your earring... the one you got from your mother and lost. Ask him if he saw or found it after you separated from him and maybe never returned it." _

_For several moments she didn't say a thing and then she drew a deep breath. _

"_Why am I supposed to ask him?" _

"_I want to know if Eileen or maybe someone else had ever been in his apartment and could have found it there." _

"_But how..." she started, but he cut her off. _

"_I'll explain it to you later..." sighing, trying to keep his anger in check, because knew she wouldn't lie without reason, he added: "And Della..." _

"_Yes?" _

"_Be careful." _

_

* * *

_

"Can't you drive faster, Ken?" Perry asked angrily and tightened his grip around his walking stick until his fingers hurt. He had replayed his phone conversation with Della over and over again and couldn't believe how things had gotten out of hand. The earring... 40 years ago he had thought Della had simply lost it somewhere and now it was obvious, so pretty damn obvious she must have lost it in Grant's apartment or somewhere else in his close environment.

"No, as you see the street is full of cars that all want to go faster!" Ken replied, annoyed. Perry's behavior drove him nuts. Aside from answers, covered in half-sentences he could hardly interpret, he received grumpy orders he couldn't execute.

"What is wrong?"

"I guess Della has a visitor she shouldn't have, which could have attracted another, much more dangerous person to pay her a visit as well."

"What are you talking about?" Ken asked again and braked hard when the traffic light switched again to red before he could pass the crossroads.

"I'm talking about Thomas Grant and Eileen Turner," Perry answered reluctantly.

"What could they want from Della?"

Perry sighed, aware he couldn't keep Della's secret forever, as much as he wanted to.

"I'm afraid the answer to this question is one that lies in their past."

From the moment Eileen Turner had entered her house, Della had known allowing her inside would turn out to be major mistake. The extent of her mistake, though, was revealed slowly. How could Eileen know Thomas was at her house? Who had told Eileen where she lived?

All those question started running around her head while she watched Eileen and Thomas studying one another in her living room.

"May I ask why you are here?" Della asked, doing her best to ease the awkward tension between Eileen and Thomas.

"Actually, I'm here to return something to you, my dear."

"To me?"

She had turned to Della again and opened her purse. Eileen produced a folded piece of fabric out of the depth of her handbag and gave it to Della who took it after a short hesitation.

"Just open it, dear," Eileen encouraged her when she noticed Della's hesitation. "I'm quite sure it's yours."

Thomas and Della exchanged a look and then she carefully removed the first layer of the fabric and gasped.

"It is yours, isn't it?" Eileen asked with glittering eyes. "It's your earring!"

* * *

_Los Angeles, May 1950 _

_Della arrived earlier than usual in the office. Since Perry and she were supposed to go to London in the early afternoon, she needed to collect some of the papers he would need and had to give Gertie instructions for several things that had to be done in the following days of their absence. To her surprise, she had seen Perry's car in the parking lot; it was unusual for him to arrive earlier than she normally did, unless he had spent the whole night in the office, working on a case. She peeked into his office, but he wasn't there; the desk looked untouched, his briefcase was nowhere to be seen. She shrugged and closed the door. Maybe he had stopped at Paul Drake's office before he came up here. _

_After taking care of her jacket and her purse, she checked on her desk and started sorting the mail. Three piles... important, less important, unimportant. Blindly, her hand stretched out to open the drawer where the letter opener used to lie. When her hand got hold of a small box, instead of the instrument she was searching for, she raised her head and looked curiously into her drawer. Her eyes widened when she saw a small box with the engraved name of a well-known jewelry shop. A jewelry box in her drawer... just like that... _

_Her heartbeat increased when the realization of what could be in there slowly dawned__. _

_Her hands were shaking as she tried to open the box, and she failed, because she was too nervous. Putting the box down on her desk, she ordered herself to calm down and after a few moments she gave it another try. This time the box opened and her face brightened when she found a pair, her pair, of earrings resting on white satin. _

_She searched the drawer for a note or card, but couldn't find any. Then she searched her desk, but it was too tidy to discover__ a__nything that didn't belong there. _

_She had told Perry about the earring about two weeks ago, they had searched the office for it and had left for dinner afterwards, but he had only returned the earring in the following week to her, telling her he had put it in his drawer, because he didn't want them to lose it as well. Had he kept it to search for the other one on his own? _

_Della checked the box and let her thumb run over the golden letters on top of the box. _

_No, he had kept it and had ordered a duplicate. She bit her lips, hoping to repress her sudden wish to cry. She couldn't remember having received such a wonderful present in a very long time and now she felt ashamed. Ashamed because she still hadn't told Perry she was seeing a man who had been a client. Ashamed because it felt to her as if she were abusing his trust and his kind nature... she couldn't go on like this. She was trapped in her own web and she had lost control over herself and her life. Her thumb caressed the earrings in the box. _

_Her relationship with Thomas Grant had gone downhill from the day she had refused _

_to accept his proposal of marriage and two days ago their common evening had ended in an epic disaster when she told him they couldn't go on a short trip to Acapulco, because Perry wanted her to accompany him to London. _

_Her job was an obstacle between them, her boss was an obstacle between them. _

_As much as she liked Thomas and felt attracted to him, it couldn't match what she felt when Perry Mason looked at her. At first she had thought it would pass, like the adoration a teenager felt for her poetry teacher, but it didn't and it possibly never would._

_And now the earring... why had Perry gone through this trouble? Was it just kindness? _

_And how was his lady friend taking all this? Did Laura Kilgallen know about the earring? _

_Della doubted it... _

_And wasn't she just his secretary rather than a close friend? How was she supposed to react when he entered the office and asked her how she was? Happy because she had her favorite piece of jewelry back or deeply ashamed, because she didn't deserve his trust? _

_

* * *

_

"So, is it yours?" Eileen asked again, when Della didn't answer. Thomas had approached her and had taken the fabric with the earring.

"Yes, it is mine. Where did you get it?"

"What does that matter? But you should know I took good care of it." Eileen smiled a smile that made Della frown.

"That doesn't answer the question, Eileen," Thomas said. "Where did you find it?"

"That's my secret. You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you..." she told Della. "If I had known earlier you're the one I was looking for we could have had this conversation a long time ago."

"I don't see any reason to have this conversation at all, Eileen."

Thomas took the earring and returned the piece of fabric to Eileen.

"Did you know I couldn't even remember you when I heard Thomas was here in your house? I was really thinking... Della Street... Della Street... my God who is she? And then I realized you were Perry Mason's secretary and I started asking myself whether Mr. Mason knows you're the woman Mrs. Carpenter described in her diary... a secretary fooling around with a client... not quite so proper."

"That's nonsense, Eileen. Della never was in my house. Mrs. Carpenter was dreaming." Thomas said quickly, before Della could even open her mouth. "You should go now! It's about time."

Eileen shook her head. Her smile was still plastered on her face and her hand was blindly searching for something in her purse. "Not before you get what you deserve."

When she looked at the barrel of the gun Eileen pointed at her, Della realized there wasn't much left to say or explain. This woman didn't want an explanation, she wanted to get rid of something evil that had been buried deep down inside her and there was nothing to stop her.

She heard a scream, then gunfire. Thomas grabbed her, forced her around as his arm lay protectively around her waist, but the pain arrived before she could prepare for it. She felt sick and the world started turning around her while she heard voices she couldn't identify anymore. The last thing on her mind, before everything went black, was Perry's face and that she probably wouldn't see him again.

**~~tbc~~**


	15. Chapter 14

_Here we go... thanks to Molly for helping me getting this done!_

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 14**

Perry Mason had spent the few hours living his very own nightmare. Had lived with those demons everybody knew and feared, but couldn't explain, because everyone had his own nightmare to go through.

Waiting for doctors, repeated questions to nurses who passed him and couldn't give him the answer he sought for.

"No, Sir, she's still in surgery... no Sir, we haven't heard anything... no Sir, I can't tell you how much time the doctors need..."

According to the doctor in the ambulance, two bullets had hit Della; one in the shoulder and another one in the collarbone. Nothing life threatening to begin with, but she had lost a lot of blood. Grant, on the other hand, had been hit twice in his chest. Perry didn't know how he was or if he was still alive. He didn't care much about his well-being since he had been the one who was responsible for Della being shot. Aside from the absorbing fear for her life, there was one thing that just didn't vanish from his mind – she had lied to him, about Grant being in her house. He would love to tell himself she lied because Eileen had already been there pointing a gun at her and forcing her lie about not being alone, but he knew her. There hadn't been a hint of fear in her voice, all he had heard was this tremble of uncertainty mixed with a bad conscious. What could make her lie about Grant's presence in her house 40 years after things had been over between them?

"I just talked to the police." Ken's voice reached his ear. Perry looked up and saw the young lawyer was offering him a coffee. He declined.

"What did they say?" he asked instead. Ken sat down, putting the coffee he wouldn't need next to his chair and sipped from his.

"Seems Eileen took a taxi to Della's. The maid had said Eileen had received a call approximately 20 minutes before she left the house. They're checking were it came from. As for the reporters... thank God they keep trying to invent their own story. The latest thing I heard is Eileen wanted to kill you because you had found out she killed Edna."

Perry ignored Ken's comment about the press and said instead, "I suppose someone was watching Grant. Someone Eileen had hired."

Ken raised his eyebrows at the agony in his boss's voice. "Or someone who had been watching Della."

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and showed Perry a certain piece of jewelry.

"I found it next to Grant. Since I heard you talking to Della about an earring, I thought I'd take it before the police found it."

Without missing a beat Perry took the earring and examined it carefully. Hadn't it been a lifetime since all this had started? 40 years... 40 years and he remembered it all... He had ordered a duplicate of the earring for Della, because she had lost it and was heart broken over it. It had been a present from her late mother. So far he had repressed the thought, but had she lost it while being with Grant? In his apartment? Did Eileen steal from it from Grant like she said? The sum up of coincidences disturbed him deeply. Eileen was dead. Her suicide was the dead end in this mess. Mentally disturbed or not, she had been the key to everything and now he could only hope Eileen had told Della and Grant how she had committed her crimes. If not... It felt like a knife turned in his heart when he realized it was possible he would never receive an answer to his questions. Having another demon awakened, Perry denied himself the wish to hit something in order to get rid off his frustration and helplessness.

"Perry?"

Puzzled, he looked up to Ken who had kept talking and was now giving him now a quite insulted look.

"What is it you're trying to hide from me?" he asked. "I think I deserve some answers."

* * *

_London, May 1950 _

_Della sat on her her bed in the small, but tidy__ hotel room in the heart of London and rubbed her hurting feet. The conference Perry was attending had started with a tour around town and in less than one hour the day would end with a dinner for the participants. The jet lag and the busy schedule of the day had almost led her to forget about the puzzling present she had received from Perry the day before. _

_Although she had tried several times to talk to him about the earring, she had never been able to finish her first sentence on the subject, because either he or somebody else had interrupted her. Perry Mason himself was in the best mood she could imagine. She had never seen him like this. He was smiling brightly, enjoyed the small talk with his colleagues from all over the world, and enjoyed showing her around London. She had wondered several times if him being away from Laura was the reason for this relaxed attitude, but then she had told herself not to think about it, because it simply wasn't her business. _

_A bit different were her feelings toward Thomas Grant. She had hated to leave L.A. without having talked to him after their heavy argument, but he had refused to talk to her and so she had decided to leave the subject alone. Maybe they both needed time to cool off and rethink the last few weeks. She had no idea how to move with her life, but she knew she had to make a decision. She owed it to Thomas and to herself. _

_After a quick shower and even quicker make up and dressing, Della had forgotten about her jet lag. She stood in front of her mirror trying to decide if she should wear her earrings or not. Her long hair was put up in a simple but graciously arranged bun that showed off her flawless neck. The thought of provoking a reaction from Perry by showing her earrings tonight at the official dinner made her cheeks flush, because the idea seemed bold for her taste. She was sure Laura would use the chance to get a reaction from a man and at least he wouldn't have the chance to ignore the matter any longer and she would get the chance to tell him how grateful she was for what he had done. Grateful and... happy. _

_A knock at her door startled her and forced her to do something. She quickly grabbed the earrings and put them on. _

"_Yes?" she yelled. _

"_It's me. Are you ready? The Scottish salmon is waiting for us!"_

"_Almost done, Chief. Just a second." _

_Ignoring her hurting feet and her racing heart, Della hastened to the door and opened it. _

"_Ready for the salmon," she announced and blushed when his piercing eyes checked her out and clung to her ear lobs. _

"_You look beautiful," Perry complimented with sparkling eyes. _

"_Thank you." _

_When he didn't take his eyes from her and the tension the following silence threatened to paralyze them, she quickly cleared her throat and looked for her purse. _

"_I'm starving," she said and avoided his eyes when he helped her into her coat. A shiver ran down her spine when she felt his breath on the back of her neck and his hands came to rest on her shoulders, remaining there longer than necessary. _

"_Me too, Della. Let's go."_

_

* * *

_

The waiting area of the hospital was deserted. It was after 9 p.m. Della had been out of surgery for half an hour, she lived, but so far nobody was allowed to see her. The doctors had told him to go home, but Perry had insisted on waiting until he was allowed to see with his own eyes that Della would recover completely.

Ken had asked about Grant's condition. He was alive as well and would stay alive unless something unexpected happened. Perry had taken the news with the same agony as before. He couldn't care less if Grant survived, what mattered to him was only how Della would feel if Thomas Grant wouldn't survive.

Ken was pacing the waiting area, asking questions and being eager to get answers.

Perry did his best to focus on Ken and his questions, but it was hard to tear his thoughts away from Della and her health to the young man who had a right to be angry at him. He had kept Ken in the dark about Della and Grant and the reason behind everything.

"When you asked me to investigate in this case, you said you wanted me to help prove the woman Mrs. Carpenter described in her diary isn't the motive for the killing of Edna Grant," Ken remembered. "So if the earring belongs to Della and Eileen shot Della and Mr. Grant because of the earring, there's just one conclusion left."

"It's not like you might think," Perry cut him off.

"No?" Ken was anything but convinced and his face showed it. "To me it looks as if Della and Grant had an affair, Grant killed his wife to become a free man and you defended him, because Della asked you to."

Perry knew Ken only said aloud what everybody would be thinking, but hearing it hit him nevertheless. The young man was right, even though the truth couldn't be any different from what the evidence pointed at.

"It wasn't like that."

Ken shook his head, "Can you prove it? I guess you can't, because otherwise you wouldn't have to keep it a secret."

If he was honest, he had never really understood Perry and Della's relationship. He had never seen two people being so obviously close and living in different houses at the same time. They had been together for a lifetime and still there was a gap of about ten years, after Mason had become a judge, in which they had barely seen each other. He had no idea if they were lovers or not. A lot of things concerning those two didn't square up for him and learning about Della and Grant's possible affair didn't make it easier for him to understand it. Had Perry known anything about it? Had he covered up for them 40 years ago? Why had Grant been at Della's house? Did Mason care? Was he jealous?

He was obviously a wreck now that Della had been shot, but was that a proof of love or concern for a close friend?

Ken would love to ask a lot of questions, but he also knew Mason was too private and protective of his life and Della's to answer.

"I'm sure a testimony from Della can prove it, but I don't want her to take the stand. Her reputation is at stake. It was bad enough for her to be arrested for the killing of Arthur Gordon. The rumors around his death and her so called relationship with him, mostly filled by his angry wife, had hurt her deeply. I don't want the press to have a field day by tearing her apart over this. I won't allow it!"

"I can understand that, but this can't erase the facts. Della and Grant had an affair and Eileen found out about it, and that likely caused this tragedy."

"Della's relationship with Thomas Grant started after the trial and ended a few weeks later. Della isn't related to Edna Grant's death."

Ken sighed. He had no idea what to believe. All he had learned in the past few hours hadn't added to resolve the case, on the contrary, he was more confused than ever.

**~~tbc~~**


	16. Chapter 15

Herewe go again... thanks again to Molly

:-)

**TCOT Seductive Defendant**

**Chapter 15**

Perry had lost track of time while sitting at Della's bed, watching her, making sure she was never alone in case she woke up and needed something. From time to time the nurse or the doctors would come in, checking on Della telling him she was doing better and better. Her vital functions were stable, her body in a deep sleep, recovering from the shooting and the following procedure of removing the bullets. Perry noticed how peaceful she looked even though her face was pale as the sheets she was lying in. Her recovery would take long, but healthy as she was, the doctors were positive she would recover completely. Those words had been release and cure in one for Perry. Though the fear for her hadn't vanished yet, he felt much better and allowed himself to think about the future.

At one point, Perry even remembered to ask how Grant was doing.

"Better as well, Sir. He doesn't give up."

Perry didn't doubt it. Thinking of Grant left a bitter impression on him. Without Grant being around, none of this would have happened. Cursing himself for having taken the case in the first place 40 years ago, Perry leaned forward and kissed Della's forehead. Her reaction was just a slight one, but it as there. She knew he was there and the knowledge filled with him peace and gratefulness. He hadn't lost her. Everything was going to be fine.

During the next days he didn't leave her side, not when Ken stopped by to inform him about the progress of his investigation, not when the press demanded a statement. There was one official statement he had delivered via Ken and it was the only thing he would say on the matter. The shooting had happening in the context of a meeting Grant had asked for to prove his innocence. Thank God the press was much more interested in Eileen Grant and her relationship to Grant, than in Della. So far no reporter had come across the idea Della could have been the woman mentioned during the trial, but Perry wasn't naïve enough to believe the secret would remain safe for all eternity.

Ken arrived in the late afternoon of the day after the shooting and asked Perry to have a coffee with him. The young man looked bleary-eyed and pale and Perry agreed to give him a break. He ordered a nurse to stay in Della's room until he returned and underlined his wish with a 20 Dollar note.

They went into the cafeteria of the hospital and settled down at a table in the corner of the room where they were undisturbed.

"How's Della?" Ken asked, worried.

"Better. She's a fighter."

"And Grant?"

"Alive," Perry answered coldly. Ken just nodded without commenting. After spending a lot of time thinking about Della and Perry, he had come to the conclusion the lawyer was filled with jealousy and rage toward Grant, the 'other' man, and he didn't want to add more fuel to the fire. Someone who spent all night long next to someone else's hospital bed had to be in love with the person he was supervising.

"What did you find out?"

"It was hard work," Ken said, after his first sip from his coffee and a bite from his sandwich. "But I found out Eileen has never hired anyone to follow Grant or Della or us. With a little help from someone in the police department I checked her phone records and her bank account . She didn't pay a private investigator and she never called one. At least not over the last year."

Perry wrinkled his forehead, "That makes no sense. There had to be someone who told Eileen where Grant is."

"I know. I want to question the maid again, but she's hard to find. Seems she ran away after Eileen killed herself. But I doubt she can hide for long. The police are searching for her as well, because the gun Eileen used is registered in her name."

"Good work," Perry complimented, but at the same time, he felt floored when he thought about the phone records. "Could you find out who called Eileen before she went to Della's?"

Ken sighed, "The call came from a booth in Hollywood. No chance to find out who called."

"A phone booth?" Perry asked, concerned. "So there had be someone who passed this information to Eileen and it wasn't the maid... she was in the house while we were there. No chance she watched anyone."

"Maybe Eileen told Della and Grant something before she shot them," Ken suggested with a shrug.

"Hopefully." Perry paused, taking his time to think. "Ken, I want you to check if Grant hired someone to investigate for him. Ask his driver, talk to his lawyer, and try to find out if she had hired someone and, if so, talk to him."

"You think someone could be playing a double game here?" Ken asked.

"Maybe. If Eileen didn't hire anyone, but got a call from someone who told her where to find Della and Grant, somebody must be playing a double game." Perry thought for a moment and added, "It means somebody is out there who's known all along Eileen killed Edna." And who possibly knew about Della and Grant, he thought, but kept this to himself. He was glad Ken hadn't asked any more questions, he didn't want to answer.

The concern on Perry's face was visible and Ken frowned. "Maybe we should tell that to the police." He had forgotten about his sandwich and his coffee.

"I'll talk to the police," Perry decided. "You talk to Grant's lawyer."

"Grant and Della could still be in danger," Ken finished his coffee, spilled a bit on his tie while getting up, and hurried to collect his folders while Perry had already reached the door.

"That's why we have to act."

* * *

_London, May 1950_

_The breeze coming from the River Thamses was nothing like the soft breeze Della was used to from the Californian beach. Though it was spring, the weather in London wasn't exactly mild. It was a chilly evening, but since it wasn't raining and both, she and Perry desperately wanted to some peace after an exhausting day with a not less exhausting dinner, they had decided to sneak away to take a little walk. They had just crossed Tower Bridge and were now walking right beside the mighty river, enjoying the sight of the illuminated Tower on the other side of the shore._

_Della had underestimated the cold and had started freezing in her sleeveless dress and her thin jacket shortly after they had left the hotel. Always the gentleman, Perry had taken off his coat and had placed it around her shoulders. Until that moment the evening had been a relaxed one. After they had left her hotel room to get downstairs, the tension between them had eased and they enjoyed a cheerful dinner, but when his hands had come to rest on her shoulders again, the strange electricity had suddenly reappeared and the result was a walk in utter silence._

_She didn't like what was happening, didn't like the tension and fear she could say or do something that pushed him away, because he was afraid to get too close to her. They both had people at home who possibly didn't like the idea of them being together in a strange town, thousands of miles away, and that was a situation Della hated as well. She had been raised to be an honest person. What she had been doing in the last few weeks hadn't been exactly honest – not toward herself, not toward Grant, and certainly not toward Perry, and she needed to find a way to cut this knot. But how? Finding the right words was never easy and she still wasn't sure if she hadn't mistaken his kindness._

_The wind grew more chill and she pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders._

_"Maybe we should turn and go back to the hotel," Perry suggested when he saw her fighting with the collar of his coat. "I don't want you to get a cold."_

_"Maybe that's a good idea," she agreed. "I don't know how the English survive this cold wind."_

_"Tea and scotch without ice," Perry commented dryly and she laughed. They stopped and while turning their eyes met for a moment and before he could move away, Della got hold of his arm and said lowly, "Thanks for the earrings... I never expected this."_

_"They look beautiful on you," Perry just said as he took her arm to link it with his. "And I couldn't stand your sadness about losing them."_

_"Get used to it," she joked, hoping it would help her to ignore how he had placed his free hand on hers._

_"At times I'm a real crybaby."_

_"I'll remember to put some handkerchiefs into my drawer... or maybe I'll tell my secretary to think of it."_

_"That's part of her job."_

_"Indeed."_

_Then her smile faded and she became serious again. She stopped dead and looked sadly at him, "Perry, you can't so that; you shouldn't give such gifts to me. It isn't right. It's too personal."_

_He returned her look, but she couldn't read his eyes. They were as attentive and piercing as always, but the darkness of the night added a hint of secrecy Della couldn't interpret._

_"I'm sorry," he said after a while. "It never crossed my mind I could offend you with..."_

_"You never offended me!" she said quickly, searching for the right words. "But what about Miss Kilgallen? I can't imagine she would be happy, if she knew."_

_"She wouldn't," Perry agreed. "But I couldn't help myself. It's hard to resist a crying woman."_

_"It wasn't my intention..." her voice trailed off. "It wasn't my intention to make you do anything for me." But the words never left her mouth, she just cleared her throat and shook her head._

_"Hm?" he encouraged._

_"Nothing. You were right... we should go back, before we catch a cold."_

* * *

Perry called the police from the phone at the counter where he could have a look at the door of Della's room. Until a policeman could be stationed in front of that door to protect Della around the clock, Perry wouldn't leave. Though the investigating Lieutenant was at first reluctant to see Perry, the lawyer convinced the man to talk to him in person. They agreed to meet in the hospital. Perry thanked the nurse and crossed the hallway to Della's room, but then the sound of a familiar voice kept him from entering. He stopped at the door and looked down the hallway. To his surprise he saw Taylor Kimball talking to a nurse. Behind her wheelchair he recognized the same man he had already seen next to her in court. He was smaller than Perry. His grey hair was thin and, if Perry interpreted the expression on his face correctly, the man wasn't happy to be there.

Taylor, on the other hand, smiled when she saw him.

"Miss Kimball," Perry said, as he approached her.

"Mrs. Carmichael," she corrected him. "This is my husband Timothy. Timothy, meet Mr. Mason. He was Thomas Grant's lawyer back then."

The men exchanged a nod. Perry noticed the smile on the other man's face didn't reach his eyes and decided to keep an eye on him.

"What brings you here?" Perry asked.

"Actually, we came to see how Thomas is doing. I was horrified to learn he had been shot and, since nobody in his office wanted to tell me how he was, I decided to come here and see him myself."

"I see." Silence fell, because Perry would rather shoot himself before he showed any kind of faked interest in Grant. What fascinated him on the other hand was Taylor Kimball's... Carmichael's interest in him. As far as he knew, Taylor and Grant hadn't been in contact ever since Grant had been forced by Edna's family to break off the relationship.

"How's your secretary?" Taylor asked. "I heard she was injured as well."

"She's much better," Perry said, without adding any detail. "If you'll excuse me now, I need to talk to the doctor. Have a nice day."

"Thank you. Tim, I think we can go home now. Everything is just fine."

Perry waited until Timothy had turned the wheelchair and had vanished behind the elevator doors.

* * *

Her dream was confusing. She couldn't exactly say where she was and why, but it felt like London, though she couldn't see any concrete indication for her suspicion. Dreams sent you in another reality without needing proof or reason for their intentions.

What was more confusing than the location that seemed to switch every now and then, was what was happening. She was young again or at least she felt young. There was Perry who laughed and smiled at her, kissed her fingertips, and told her how beautiful she looked with her earrings. The earring... she remembered it, saw it lying on her flat hand. Cut. Then there was Eileen Turner, holding the gun, telling her to prepare to die. Cut. There was Thomas who told her he loved her and tore at her arm to pull her away from Perry and his warm embrace. Cut. She felt lips caressing her cheek and then her mouth, felt the safety and protection the hands on her back provided. Cut. Tom was yelling at her; words she couldn't understand, but she knew he wanted to warn her about something. Cut. She wanted to wake up while she saw again a gun and heard the shot banging in her ear. She moved impatiently in her sleep, but the pain didn't allow her to shake off her nightmare. Cut. The movie in her head went on and allowed cold sweat to cover her forehead.

A hand on her arm caressed her, begged her to calm down, but the images wouldn't go. Faces and places switched arbitrarily and without mercy. Tom, Perry, Eileen, London, her house...

* * *

Perry frowned, felt helpless and considered calling the nurse. Della, still asleep but too agitated for someone who was in her condition, worried him. Cold sweat covered her forehead and her head moved unchecked.

His hand lay on her uninjured arm, stroked it, doing its best to calm her down, but it didn't work out.

"Tom."

It was just a whisper, hardly audible, but he had heard it, had seen her mouth moving as the sound had left her lips. It scared him and filled his heart with coldness. He removed his arm, but then Della groaned in pain, as her eyes opened for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

~tbc~


	17. Chapter 16

_Thank you Molly for editing this. I'm off for a little vacation now, so stay tuned for more, after I'm back! Enjoy the chapter!_

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 16**

At first his features were blurry, but then the image became clearer and she had never doubted he would be there when she woke up. Who else could it be?

Della's mouth was dry and the turning of her head added to the pain across her upper body. Perry removed his hand from her arm and the lack of contact added another wave of pain. All of a sudden she felt colder, but she couldn't grab his hand. Her muscles and limb didn't obey.

"Per... ry..." the word hardly left her mouth; she coughed and she thought her lungs would explode.

"Don't!" The hand returned and a thumb circled reassuringly over her skin until her body relaxed again.

"I'll get you some water. Don't move."

* * *

Ken rubbed his tired eyes and finished his coffee. He couldn't stand the bitter taste and put the cup aside, promising himself he would wait for his next until Della had recovered and could make a good one. Again he focused for a short time on the television screen in the corner of the room, but there was still time until the local news would air again. He had no idea how much the press knew or had found, but he hoped, since the phone was more or less quite, they still didn't know what exactly had been going on in Della's house.

Again he checked his watch and ran his fingers through his hair. The lack of sense in all this worried him. Who, if not Eileen Turner, could be responsible for all this and why?

The only good news had arrived half an hour ago. Perry had called to tell him Della had awakened and now the doctors were checking on her, but to him she seemed better and stable. Gratitude had flooded him and he could only imagine how relieved the old man had to be now.

Beforehand he had talked to Grant's lawyer, but all he learned was Grant hadn't been exactly supportive of her investigation on the old case. She had all along had the feeling he was hiding something and she suspected Grant had covered for Eileen, although she couldn't say why.

Ken had his doubts about this theory, but he could hardly tell Grant's attorney that he knew who the mysterious woman in the diary really was. Ken sighed and leaned back in Perry's spinning chair. The bones in his back cracked. He hadn't slept all night, because he had tried to track down information from the police, but since Eileen had shot herself and there was no indication for them that another party was involved, Ken expected the file on the shooting would be closed quite soon. There were too many unsolved murder cases around to bother with a killer who had conveniently killed herself while her victims had survived.

The phone rang. Ken answered and his eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the caller.

"Thanks for calling... what did you say? Are you sure?"

He searched blindly for a pencil and a piece of paper and made some quick notes. "And you talked to him in person? You checked his accounts? Really..." Ken put the pencil down and as he looked up his eyes roamed the TV screen. From this moment his attention switched instantly from his call to the report on the screen. His eyes narrowed and he suddenly knew what to do next.

"Listen, I'll call you back... as soon as I can."

* * *

One hour after the doctors had left the room Perry still remained at the window watching a thunderstorm bursting over the city. The sky was dark and the lightning disturbingly mighty in its power. Half an hour earlier he had received a call from Ken, who delivered him the kind of news he had feared. The police had found out that Eileen had never hired a PI to

follow Thomas Grant or Della; the only person who had paid a private investigator was Eileen's cousin, but the PI had been paid after he had found the diary and hadn't worked for the Turner's since then. The investigator himself had a very good reputation and was known for his integrity, the police believed his version and so did Ken. Another dead end.

"I chose a bad time to wake up," Della said in a stronger, but still low voice. Her eyes were still closed, as if it were easier to keep them closed while talking.

"You just chose bad weather," Perry answered, not as lighthearted as he wanted. Her weak call for Thomas Grant was a burning cut in his heart, an open wound that just didn't stop bleeding, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

"What exactly happened in my house?"

"You can't remember?"

"Not much."

She remembered Thomas Grant being there, remembered parts of their conversation, remembered Eileen's sudden appearance and the shooting, but the fragments lacked context and logic to her. Then there was this heavy shield of guilt she felt every time Thomas Grant's face appeared on her mind.

"And what do you remember?" Perry asked, remaining at the window.

"Eileen stopped by... she... she acted strangely."

"In what way?"

"She told me she had been searching for me all those years..." Della licked her lips and narrowed her eyebrows, trying hard to remember everything she needed to. "She had this gun and she wouldn't listen and..." her voice trailed off.

"How did she know Grant was at your house?"

"I don't know. I don't think she mentioned it."

The thunderstorm became heavier and louder. Thunder crashed into the silence and Della winced and groaned instantly when the pain in her shoulder reminded her of her mistake.

"Are you alright?"

Before he could stop himself he stood again at her bed and looked at her, the concern written all over his face. He had wanted to play the hard kind of guy because he was hurt, but then seeing her suffering from physical and emotional pain broke his heart.

Della drew a deep breath. This time she didn't even move an eyelid, "It's fine... Is there a reason why you prefer to look at the bad weather than at me?"

Perry sank on the chair next to her bed; the same chair he had been sitting in for the last two days and sighed wearily.

"You tell me. Why was Grant at your house at all? Why did you lie to me on the phone?"

"He just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"Himself, me, his life, the charges... I told him to go, but he didn't, and when he finally wanted to leave, Eileen was suddenly there."

"You lied to me..." He stated, his voice low and if his hands hadn't been gripping his walking stick, they would give away his nervousness.

"And I'm sorry for it. I know it was wrong, but I didn't want you to become jealous over something that was nothing."

"If it weren't for him, you wouldn't have to go through this. He put you in danger with his childish wish to catch up for old times sake." The bitterness in his voice filled the room.

"I'm sure he didn't want anyone to be hurt."

"No, I'm sure he had other intentions."

"Perry, please..." she croaked.

He bowed his head, knowing she was tired and too weak to fight this out now.

"All right. Listen... I talked to the police. There will be two policemen in front of your door all the time. Don't worry," he added quickly when he saw her eyes opened. "It's just a precaution."

Perry reached into his pocket and took out the earring Ken had given to him, after the shooting.

"As for Eileen and her motive. What about this one?" Perry asked.

"Eileen," Della answered, slightly remembering Eileen holding it in her hand. "She didn't say where she got it."

"But she had it. She already had it when Ken and I were saw her in the morning. That's why I asked you about it at the phone. You think she stole it from you?"

Della wanted to shake her head, but remembered the pain and decided not to move her head again. "No. She said she had been searching for me for a long time."

"All right." Seeing she was about to drift back into sleep, Perry decided to let it be. "You should sleep now."

"Will you be here?" Della asked, swallowing hard.

"Where else could I be?"

* * *

Ken and his new best friend, the file with the title "Thomas Grant", entered the hospital. They met Perry in front of Della's room, talking to the policemen.

"Perry!"

Ken hurried toward Perry and nodded quickly at the uniformed men. "How's Della?"

"Asleep, but fine."

"Good, look, I have news."

"The police found the maid?" Perry asked.

"Unfortunately not. She's still missing, but look at what I found out today. I think we've missed something all along."

"And what?" Perry asked, all tensed now.

Ken opened the file and gave him a photo. "I saw this shot today on television and called the broadcasting company. Look at the background. Do you recognize the woman behind the man at the buffet?"

Perry narrowed his eyes, as he looked at the picture. "Where is this taken?"

"Looks like the garden of Eileen's cousin. A fundraiser for disabled children."

* * *

She had watched the red-haired guy running into the hospital over half an hour ago and was now wondering why he didn't come out again. Of course, she could go into the hospital and search for him, but it was too risky because there were too many people who could see her, hear her, or recognize her. So all she could do was wait.

The rain had soaked her shirt and her old jeans, but she wasn't one who cared much about her appearance. She used to run around in an old fashioned costume for servants all day long and had worked for a woman who had shot herself in the head. Getting wet in a thunderstorm seemed to be a less disturbing and unusual things for her.

~~tbc~~


	18. Chapter 17

_Here we FINALLY move on with the next chapter. Thanks to Molly for sticking with me and again to everybody for the wonderful, nice comments and your support._

_Penny: Thanks for your message, but I can't write you back. Let me know how to contact you and I'll answer your questions! _

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Chapter 17**

**Los Angeles, 1990, a few minutes later**

When Ken left the hospital, heading back to the office to finish some final work of investigation, he had the strange feeling that something wasn't right. His senses told him somebody was watching him, but when he looked around he couldn't detect anything or anyone unusual. The street in front of the hospital was busy as always, the parking lot a busy spot, and the rain chased people around even faster. Everything was all right. No one seemed to take interest in him. Trying to shake free of the idea that someone was after him, he searched the pocket of his coat for his keys, found them, and opened the his car. Then there was it. He had just thrown his briefcase on the passenger's seat as somebody touched his shoulder, grabbed it tightly. He jerked around, startled by the unwanted touch.

"Hey!" he yelled, pushing the person away. "What the hell..." He looked at the woman, searched in her face and searched in the depth of his brain for a piece of information that told him he knew the stranger, but it took some time before he knew to whom he was talking. Actually, he only recognized her when she opened her mouth to talk.

"Mr. Malansky... it's me... I've worked for Miss Turner. We met in her house..."

Ken swallowed, trying to remember. He did know her. But the last time, the only time he had seen her, she had worn a maid's uniform. One of that kind he thought nobody could wear without feeling a complete idiot. Now the woman wore a completely soaked raincoat and looked frightened as hell. She was the woman the police were searching for, because she owned the gun that Eileen had used to shoot Della, Thomas Grant, and later herself.

"Right," Ken said and nodded. "You know the police are searching for you?"

She nodded slowly and the she quickly turned her head, as if she feared the cops were already standing right behind her.

"I need to talk to Mr. Mason," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I know something he could be interested in."

"And why aren't you telling this to the Police?" Ken asked suspiciously.

The woman laughed shortly, her voice sounding rough and bitter. "Because I'm afraid they won't believe me."

"But they know you didn't shoot them," Ken reminded her and added, "There's nothing you have to fear for."

"No, I just have to fear for my life, if I tell you what I know." Ken frowned and swallowed. The woman looked quite serious and he started asking himself if he had really gotten into a conspiracy when he promised Perry Mason to help him.

"So, Mr. Malansky, why don't you tell Mr. Mason to talk to me? Otherwise I'll vanish and you won't see me again."

* * *

_London Airport, June 1950_

_Della leaned back in her seat and drew a deep breath. She hated flying. Her stomach was a knot, she felt sweat on her forehead and her body was all tensed. Flying was not a way to travel she appreciated. Of course she acknowledged the use of it, but she would never like it. She sighed audibly and closed her eyes, hoping to take off wouldn't be her last experience on earth. _

"_Are you all right?" Perry asked, amused. _

"_I'm just fine," she answered nervously and avoided to looking at him. She knew it amused him to see how she squirmed. He couldn't understand her fear and when he noticed it on their trip to London a few days ago, he had tried to explain her the use and sense and working of airplanes, but she had thankfully declined his offer to become too specific and had simply clawed her nails into his arm. _

"_You'll get used to it," he assured her, trying not to laugh. _

"_I doubt that..." _

"_You will." _

"_You don't know me well enough to be sure of that," she swallowed, realizing the plane had started moving. _

"_Well, I certainly intend to get to know you well enough to convince you that flying is the safest way to travel." _

"_Bonne chance, Counselor!" she remarked dryly, shut her eyes until she thought it had to hurt, and wished there were already back home and could listen to one of Paul Drake's stupid jokes. Then she suddenly felt how his hand touched hers, squeezing it gently. _

"_Just breathe," Perry said lowly. "Once we're in the air, you'll feel better. Just trust me." _

_And that's what she did. She trusted him. _

_

* * *

_

It was after 9 pm when Sarah Cummings, Eileen Turner's employee, had ended her story. Perry had been sitting in his office chair the whole time, attentively listening to the woman while putting all the missing pieces together. As often before, he had become the witness to a devious plan that only lacked perfection, because a human vice destroyed the plan. Often greed and impatience were the reason for a perfect plan to fail; in this case it was impatience. Impatience that resulted from the fact that only one of three people had died after Eileen's shooting. Impatience because the careful planning had been for nothing. If Della hadn't been at the receiving end of all this, Perry could have cracked a smile about the stupid ways some people tried to ruin other people's lives without acknowledging that the one other big force in everything that happened in this world was fate.

"So," Ken sighed and looked at Sarah. "You're telling us that Taylor Kimball gave you the money to buy the gun in cash."

Sarah nodded eagerly, "Yes, she said someone had to protect Miss Turner, because she was so... well," Sarah hesitated. "Sometimes she just didn't seem to live in this world. That's why I should buy the gun and have it registered in my name."

"I assume she paid you a great deal of money for taking care of Eileen?"

"Yes. Miss Turner paid me a normal salary, but Taylor paid me some money in cash..." Sarah blushed. "It was good money. All I had to do was to make sure she takes her medication and keep the house tidy. Miss Turner only used a few rooms in the mansion while the others just had to be cleaned once in a while."

"And you never became suspicious that the only person visiting Eileen was Taylor?" Ken asked in disbelief.

"As I said," Sarah answered. "Miss Turner didn't live in this world most of the time. Who should visit her aside from her old cousin or her only friend? Aside from that... on good days she went out and on rare occasions she attended a party. Just for one or two hours, but she went out. I used to drive her to those gatherings."

Ken took a photo out of his file. "Was this one of those occasions?" he asked and pointed at the picture he had purchased in the morning.

Sarah nodded, "Yes. If I remember correctly that was a fundraiser for disabled children. Taylor Kimball used to teach in this school."

"That's the proof," Ken turned to Perry. "The connection between Taylor and Eileen."

Perry took the photo and roamed it pensively with his eyes. "It's unbelievable," he said after a while. "Della and I talked to Taylor back then. We asked her about her relationship to Grant, but she said it was over and there were no hard feelings left."

Ken shrugged nonchalantly, "She lied."

"Yes," Perry said. "But we believed her. There was nothing in her behavior that suggested she was mad at him for marrying another woman."

"She proved she's a good actress. I'm just wondering about something..." Ken paused, leaning back in his chair. "IF Taylor had no idea who the woman described in the diary was..."

Perry gave him a stern look and Ken bit his lips. Then he looked at Sarah and said, "You've been of great help, Sarah. I'll take you home now and tomorrow you should talk to the police."

Sarah opened her mouth, ready to object, but Perry raised his hand and said calmly, "It was your gun, yes, but it was registered and you didn't use it. No one will prosecute you and don't be scared of Taylor. She'll go to jail for a long, long time..."

"But I told you, her husband is doing most of the dirty work for her. He's her errand boy..."

"Don't worry about Timothy either. Both will be taken care of. Now go with Ken, lock your door. I'll call the police so that an officer will watch your apartment."

Sarah nodded after a short hesitation and rose from her chair. Ken helped her into her coat and asked Perry, "When will we confront Taylor?"

"Tomorrow,Ken," Perry answered quickly. "First, I need to talk to our friends from the police.

"It won't be easy to prove that Taylor was behind all this... actually there's almost nothing..."

Ken nodded wearily and sighed, "Right. Come on, Sarah. Let's go."

Perry waited several seconds after the front door of the office had shut closed before he opened the top drawer of his desk. He took the earring Ken had given him after the shooting and caressed the pearl with his thumb. As much as it reminded him of Della and how much she meant to him, he had started to hate the piece of jewelry, because it had become the symbol everything turned around. Whether Taylor or Eileen had found it back then didn't matter, it had kept the hate alive and this hate had led them all into this tragedy. Now he had to prove Taylor was behind the killing of Edna and the shooting of Della and Grant or, otherwise Della would never be safe again. She was lucky enough to be alive and now it was on him to protect her.

He picked up the receiver and dialed a number, waited until someone answered, sorting out the words he had to use to get what he wanted, "... Fine, you'll see me tonight? In one hour? Perfect! I'll be there."

~tbc~


	19. Chapter 18

_And now the end is nead and this writer here isn't the only one to face the final curtain... _

_Thanks to my beta for her help and suggestions! _

**Chapter 18**

**Los Angeles, 1990, one and half hours later. **

"Good evening, Mr. Mason," Taylor greeted him out of the background, after her husband had opened the door for Perry. "What a nice surprise!" she said with a wide smile. "Please, come in. We just opened a bottle of wine."

"Thank you very much," Perry said gently. "I know it's late and I even arrived later than I told you when I called you earlier, but I promise I won't bother you for long."

"Don't worry about that. The older we get the less sleep we need."

"You have a beautiful house," Perry complimented as he followed Taylor and Timothy into the grand sized living room. The decoration was exquisite and reminded him about European houses he had visited in the past. He imagined the room at day. The big windows would allow a lot of light to enter the room.

"Won't you sit down?" Taylor asked, placing herself right in front of the fireplace where a small fire flickered, bathing her features in a strange red light, making it impossible for Perry to read her face. "Timothy, offer Mr. Mason a glass from our Chardonnay. You won't regret it, Mr. Mason. We get several bottles each year from France. We have friends there."

"No wine, thank you."

Perry sat down, leaned his walking stick next to him against the armrest of the comfortable sofa, and admired his surroundings. "You like the french, it seems." He pointed over the mantelpiece behind Taylor. "Monet?"

"Just a copy," Taylor chuckled. "But enough to impress people."

"Very nice."

"So why are you here? Timothy asked curiously. "You said on the phone it had something to do with Thomas Grant?"

"Right." Perry became serious. "I thought somebody should tell you in person. Thomas Grant died about two hours ago."

Perry observed her closely as Taylor gasped, and exchanged a quick glance with Timothy. She said nothing, but thought he saw a glitter in her eyes that was stronger than the golden shadow of the fire behind her. For some moments the only noise in the room was the ticking of an old wand clock. When Taylor had regained her composure, she nodded slowly and swallowed. "Didn't you say he was better?" she asked.

"No, actually I didn't. According to the doctor, the bullets had damaged too many of his inner organs. He died from internal bleeding."

"I see. Timothy, be a Darling and get me some aspirin, will you? They should be upstairs in the bathroom."

"Of course, Dear."

Taylor watched her husband while he left the room and when she was sure he was gone, she said, "He's always been some kind of jealous of Thomas, you know?"

"Because of your past with him?"

"Yes. I told him so many times that we'd been nothing but friends, but I guess men have difficulties to accepting something like that."

"Maybe..."

"So now he's dead."

"Yes. I know it won't be a comfort to you, but he died as a hero."

"Hero?" she asked quickly.

"He saved my secretary's life. According to her, he had jumped right in front of her when Eileen Turner shot them. He saved her life..."

"A true hero," Taylor remarked pensively.

"And unfortunately," Perry continued as if he hadn't noticed her absent-minded facial expression, "he died before he could answer the questions that could have helped us to find out how Eileen had killed her sister."

"I see... well, you know Eileen did it, isn't that enough?" Taylor asked, trying to concentrate on Perry again.

"The police are always curious noisy and want to know everything," Perry explained and observed her from the corner of his eye. "You know... maybe you could help me."

"I didn't know Eileen," Taylor answered, "And I didn't have contact with Thomas in 40 years."

"That's not what I wanted to ask you." Perry reached into the pocket of his coat and placed the golden earring with the pearl in the middle of it on the table. "Do you know it?"

Taylor shook her head. "Strange," Perry mused. "Or should I ask you where you found it?"

"Excuse me?" she narrowed her eyes and straightened her back, ready to fight if necessary. Now Perry knew the glitter in her eyes hadn't been a product of his fantasy. But now it was turning from agitation into anger.

"You know what I'm talking about. It wasn't Eileen who found the earring. You found it and you gave it to her... what for? To remind her about her mission?"

"What mission?"

"It took me some time to figure out what was behind all this... I couldn't quite understand how the pieces fit together, but I think I know it now. Everything Eileen did... the killing of her sister, blaming it on Grant, the suing him... all because you manipulated her into it. After he left you to marry Edna Turner, you were so full of hate that you decided to destroy his life. You befriended Eileen Turner... maybe she visited the school where you were teaching in back then and realized she was a weak character... jealous of her older sister and in love with Thomas Grant... you knew he wouldn't be interested in a young girl, but you told her she could have him for herself and so you pushed her and manipulated her until she was ready to get rid of her sister and hated Grant as much as you did."

"You have a lively fantasy, Mr. Mason," Taylor laughed. "There's no way you can prove a wild story like that."

"I can prove that you knew Eileen. I know she donated a lot of money to the school where you had taught back then... and when I look around, I think she gave you a lot of money as well..." he let his eyes roam the room; the expensive furniture and the tasteful decoration screamed of money.

"My husband inherited a lot of money several years ago," Taylor insisted.

"I'm sure my partner will find out Eileen gave you a lot of money... you were her only friend. You picked Sarah Cummings to look after her... Sarah was someone who didn't ask many questions and you rewarded her with cash to keep her quiet."

"You're raving."

Perry looked up when he heard steps. Timothy returned with a small bottle in his hand.

"It was in the bedroom," he apologized. "In your night stand."

"I think my headache has vanished," Taylor said coldly. "Mr. Mason here just accused me of being responsible for Edna and Thomas Grant's death," she explained. "He thinks I manipulated Eileen into killing them."

Timothy looked from Taylor to Perry and back. It was obvious that he had trouble to finding the right words.

"That's nonsense," he swallowed. "How could she have done this?"

"With your help," Perry returned coolly. "You helped her... tell me, have you by any chance watched Thomas Grant when he went to see Della Street? Have you watched him for several weeks now, hoping he would sooner or later go to see the woman that was written about in the diary?"

"No!" Timothy answered sternly.

"We were always checking for some hired person who could have given Eileen the hint that Grant was at Miss Street's house, but it was you, right?"

"No."

Perry sighed, tired of playing games, tired of lies. He gave Taylor a long look, telling her silently to give up, because he knew everything he needed to know to prove her guilty. "How did you know Miss Street was the woman you were looking for? Grant could have wanted to see me when he went to her house."

Again there was nothing but silence filling the room. Perry waited, all tensed. He knew if she was about to confess than now would be the time. Tonight was his chance to see her talk. The news of Grant's death was fresh on her mind and, if he had read her correctly, then she had to tell someone what she had done and why. If she had waited 40 years for this moment she had to get it off her chest now – or never. He watched her while she seemed to fight with herself. He was sure the wish to tell everything was more present than anything else. He had seen countless people in court who broke down on the stand, almost grateful that somebody forced them to tell the truth. And he remembered each and very one of them just as he would remember Taylor Kimball.

"I found the earring between the sofa cushions in his apartment," she started huskily. "From my perspective in the wheelchair I could see the gold... I went to his apartment to tell him I would marry... he didn't even care... I knew he had somebody there. Perfume, you know... I knew the scent, but I couldn't say where I smelled it before. It drove me nuts to think that I already knew the woman he was seeing... So I saw the earring and couldn't help it. I grabbed it when he went to the front door to throw me out. He didn't notice a thing; I guess he was too occupied with the hiding of his lady friend to pay a closer look at me. Then I waited in front of the building for her to come out, but she didn't. I left at some point. I couldn't afford to hire someone to help me and I didn't know Timothy back then... so I returned whenever I could, but it wasn't easy because he would have recognized me... that damn wheelchair. One evening I saw a woman at his side, but she had her hair up... so I could only see that she was dark-haired, slim... a real beauty. Anyway I kept returning to his apartment house, but I never saw her again. And then suddenly he left town..." Taylor's voice trailed off.

"But you didn't forget him, right?" Perry asked, hoping he could keep her going.

"I think she has said enough," Timothy interrupted them.

"Just sit down, Tim... I haven't finished yet." Taylor's eyes now met Mason's. The coldness in them frightened him and he asked himself how he could fail to see through her 40 years ago.

Timothy sank on the couch, but remained sitting on the edge, ready to get up any time.

"No, I didn't forget him," Taylor continued musingly. "But there wasn't much I could do, right? He lived in Chicago, I in Los Angeles."

"So, you didn't try to blame him for his second's wife's death in the 70s?" Perry asked, obviously hitting a nerve. She frowned. "I have good people who work for me."

"I won't answer that question. Let's just say he liked dark-haired women."

"All right... so you gave Eileen the earring, sent your husband after Grant and waited for the moment when we would turn to the woman you thought was his lover..."

"I know it was risky, but when he went to see your Miss Street in her private home and Timothy told about it, I suddenly started to understand..." Taylor smiled. "You know, if he had wanted to talk to you he wold have met you in your office and..."

"And?"

"Remember the day you brought her to my house..."

He nodded.

"The perfume. I suddenly knew it was her perfume I had noticed in Thomas' apartment. Didn't anybody tell you, it's not good for a lawyer's reputation to have a secretary that takes too much care of the clients?"

Mason didn't respond. He had no intention of being provoked by Taylor.

"I wonder what people will say about you when they find out that you killed several people in cold blood by manipulating an unstable woman like Eileen Turner. Not to mention your husband, who helped you stay in your good graces... or did you threaten him or worse enslaved him?"

He looked at Timothy whose face turned red, "How dare you?"

"No, not me... how could you dare?" Mason returned the question, rose and collected the earring and the photo.

"And what are you going to do now?" Taylor asked with a crooked eyebrow. "Will you go to the police?"

"That's the normal procedure."

"You know we can't let you go, right?" she asked and Mason noticed in the corner of his eye that Timothy had left his place on the sofa and hastened to a desk in the corner of the living room.

"You better let me go. My partner knows I'm here... I left instructions in case I don't return. If you kill me," emphasizing the word 'kill', "you'll live to regret it."

"At our age, it doesn't really matter how long one will go to jail," Taylor said with a weird smile. "I guess we should take the risk and see what your young partner is capable of. Tim!" Her yell crossed the room and then everything happened in only a few seconds. Timothy raised the revolver he had taken out of the drawer, aimed at Perry and tightening his index finger around the trigger. Then Perry's walking stick flew across the room, distracting Timothy as it hit his head. Losing his balance, he pulled the trigger, forcing Perry to estimate in a heartbeat where the bullet could end. He stepped back, ducked his head, and seconds later the glass of the wall clock burst into a thousand pieces. Taylor screamed as the fragments spread over her, causing small wounds in her beautiful face that started instantly bleeding and ran unchecked over her face like tears.

Timothy lay on the floor, covering his nose with his hand, trying to get up, but Perry quickly crossed the room and placed himself over the bleeding man.

"Stay were you are," he warned him in his darkest tone of voice.

Outside the building Mason heard men running, lights suddenly flashed into the half dark living room, and then the sound of what seemed to be an army entering the house. Wood crashed and voices bellowed harsh and quick orders.

"We're here!" Mason yelled, placing his foot directly over Timothy's Adam's apple. "Right here waiting for you!"

* * *

Ken didn't believe his ears when Perry called him some time after midnight to tell him that he could come and see him and Della the next morning in the hospital, because there was no need to question Taylor and her husband anymore. The young man listened in disbelief as Perry told him in crisp words what had happened and couldn't help feeling a little left out.

"You've done enough," Mason told him over the phone. "Della has paid a high prize for her involvement with Grant; I couldn't risk putting another colleague in danger. I'll see you tomorrow morning – and don't forget the file," he added. "We still have some work to do!"

"Yes, Sir," Ken hung up and fell back into his pillow. Life was madness.

* * *

The next morning Perry paid Della a very early visit and told her in calm words what had happened the night before. As he knew she would, Della reacted with a mixture of disbelief and utter shock about the lengths Taylor had gone to see Thomas, Edna, Eileen and her dead.

"Are you all right?" she asked nervously, but he just smiled and shook his head. "Do I look hurt or ill?" he asked in return and took her healthy hand in his and kissed it.

"How could you go there all alone?" she asked and he heard anger filling her voice.

"I wasn't alone. I talked to the police and convinced them about my theory... they were very cooperative."

"As if their possible non-cooperation would have stopped you," Della told him off.

"Maybe it wouldn't, but we'll never have to find that out."

"Thank God... and you," she smiled again as his lips caressed the back of her hand. Then her smile faded slowly.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked and there was no doubt she wasn't talking about his physical health. "You weren't right with me in the last couple of days," she explained when his eyebrows raised.

"I was here all the time."

"That's not what I mean... look, I know you were angry because I allowed Tom into my house, but nothing of importance happened there ... don't you believe me?"

"Of course, I do," he said, but bowed his head so that she couldn't see the pain in his eyes.

"But?" she insisted, stroking his arm. "Please, talk to me... you know what they say about couples and communication."

He sighed deeply and from the bottom of his heart before he had gained enough strength to answer. "You said his name."

"What? When?" she asked puzzled.

"Right before you woke up."

Her face became as pale as the pillow she was laying on. "I had strange dreams... you were there, he was there... Eileen... I could have said any name and anything... I only know I wanted you to hold me..." she turned her face to him, a tear rolling down her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never meant to hurt you."

He was lost for words and didn't know what to say. Her tears washed his anger away like rain cleared dust from a street. So he just reached out and stroked the tear tenderly with his thumb. "Don't cry," he said lowly. "A beautiful woman like you should never cry."

"Forgive me, please."

"There's nothing to forgive... but the next time you're asleep and whisper some other man's name, I won't be so forgiving," he joked and leaned over to kiss her.

"I love you, Miss Street and I'll always love you."

"I love you, too, Counselor."

For a moment he rested his forehead against hers and then he straightened up again when a knock at the door disturbed the pleasant silence of their private moment.

"We should be at the airport, nobody ever disturbs you there no matter how crowded the place is," Perry mumbled dryly while Della called the person in. It was her attending physician with a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Miss Street, Mr. Mason," he greeted them. "How do you feel today?"

"Much better, Doctor," Della said, smiling at him.

"Fine, fine..." he cleared his throat.

"Is something wrong, Doctor?" Perry asked, worried, and grabbed Della's hand.

"Actually yes, there is," the doctor said. "I have bad news for you, Miss Street."

"What happened?" she asked, already breathless.

"It's about Mr. Grant. The man who had been shot at your house as well. He died 15 minutes ago."

**~tbc~**


	20. Epilogue

_Here's the very final installment to this story. I would like to thank everybody who helped me getting this done! A special thank you goes to Molly, my wonderful beta and to someone who doesn't want to be mentioned ;-) You're great, Ladies! _

_Thanks to everyone who commented and took his/her time to review my story. _

**TCOT Seductive Defendant **

**Epilogue **

It was a warm spring day when Della entered the cemetery. It was still quite early in the morning, the air was clear and only a few people were around, bringing flowers or watering them. Della herself carried a small bouquet of pinks in her uninjured arm, the other one she held still in a sling. She had been recovering well, but her physicians had told her she still had some months to go before she could use her arm fully again.

It took her some time before she found the grave she was searching for and looking at the marbled, grand-sized stone made her feel a bit uneasy, but not as bad as she had imagined it would be. Thomas Grant had been buried next to his late wife Edna, while his second wife had been cremated and buried in Chicago, where they had lived together. She wondered how he would feel about lying next to Edna after they had lived emotionally apart while they had been married. Maybe now, with the gap of 40 years, he would take it as irony and laugh about it. Who knew? She certainly didn't.

Being too ill to do much or to go out much, she had had a lot of time to think about Thomas Grant, Perry and herself and had come to the conclusion that she had never really known Thomas. Not as she knew Perry and he knew her. Thomas couldn't grasp her relationship with Perry, because he had seen something in her she had never been. He had never been able to really touch her inner core or her most inner thoughts, though at times he had come close. She had feared going to his grave, because she didn't know what it would feel like to read his name carved in stone and now that she knew it, she felt relieved.

There were no hard feelings left inside her. She was free and so she hoped was Thomas.

Perry had told her about the lengths Taylor Kimball and Eileen Turner had gone to ensure Thomas Grant's life would be miserable and in the end she had been the lucky one in this game, because she had left him, before they found out about her relationship with him. His second wife hadn't been so lucky and Thomas hadn't even loved her.

Della had been used to crime for over 40 years now and had seen the revealing of the darkest souls in the courtroom and outside, but being in the center of evilness herself like this had shaken her to core. She had seen madness before, but now she knew it and for several weeks after she had been released from the hospital it had scared her and had given her nightmares she had only recovered from because she hadn't been alone. The line between life and death was a thin one and how thin it could be, she had experienced herself. She didn't necessarily believe in guardian angels, but maybe she had one and it hadn't been just luck that had saved her.

40 years ago something deep down within had told her to dump Thomas because she wanted to wait for Perry, no matter if he would want her or not, and it had saved her. HE had saved her life and was the very center of it ever since. He was the one angle her world turned around and she could only hope he knew the real extent of her love for him and had overcome the doubts Thomas' appearance had awoken in him.

She placed the flowers on the grave and spoke a small, inaudible prayer, as she heard heavy and well-known steps behind her. She smiled. He stopped, but didn't say a thing until she turned to him.

"Are you ready?"

"I think so," she answered.

"Weird place to bury him," he said, pointing at Edna's name.

"Maybe that's the only place left for him," Della sighed heavily. "Time to go."

"You can stay if you wish to," he said quickly, but she shook her head. "No. There's no reason to stay. It's all said and done."

"And you're all right with it?" he asked, doubt audibly darkening his voice. She gave him a soft smile, took his hand, and squeezed it tenderly.

"I'm just fine. And if my shoulder will be healed sooner or later, I'll be the luckiest woman on earth. That means..." her voice trailed off and she bit her lips. "Have you thought about my suggestion?"

He blinked, but she was uncertain if he tried to fool her or if the sun that rose over the trees was the reason for it.

"You mean about leaving L.A. and moving to Denver?"

"Yes."

"I remember a time when you refused to move around California and now you want to move to another state..." he sounded doubtful.

"The thinking female human being changes her mind, once in a while... We have a lot of friends in Colorado and there's a young lawyer who deserves the chance to learn from the best."

"And the best is... are us?" Now she saw the twinkle in his eye was real and returned the smile.

"Do you know one couple that compares?"

"Maybe that actress and her..." he started, but she slapped his arm. "Silly old man! Let's go home... I need to make some calls."

"Calls?"

"Yes, we'll need an office and I heard Jim Peterson is moving his company, so..."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," Perry remarked, knowing the deal was already done.

"But you will."

"I will?"

"You always do."

"I guess that's what I do."

Together they strolled back to the exit of the cemetery.

"You mentioned Ken," Perry said after a short moment of silence. "He called. The file on Edna Grant and her deceased family is finally closed."

"So it's over for real?" Della asked.

"Seems so," was his answer.

"Why did the police – or we – never suspect Eileen in the first place?" she asked. "Because she had this weak alibi?"

"Yes... and she was 16... too young to kill, so we thought. She was quite sneaky... apparently she hid the bill of the taxi among her father's possession so that we thought he was the most likely suspect after he died."

"Do you think she killed him so that we found the evidence among his possessions?"

"I don't know... the doctors said it was a cardiac attack, but..." he shrugged. "We'll never know." he gave her a side glance. "And we shouldn't think about it much longer. I thought we're moving to Denver."

"We definitely are," she agreed. He stopped as they reached the car and looked lovingly at her.

"Time to leave the past behind." She gave him a smile and nodded.

"Indeed. Time to start over again."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"Let's go home and organize our new life. I can't wait to start."

"Me neither, Miss Street, me neither."

**~~The End~~**


End file.
